The Revolutionary
by enjolrasatthebarricades91
Summary: "Adrienne's face was the last thing he saw as the first of the eight bullets pierced his chest." Set three years before the events of Les Misérables, nineteen year old Julian Enjolras meets an intriguing young woman named Adrienne Beaux. A tale of forbidden love and tragedy. Follow Adrienne and Enjolras as they struggle to hold on to each other in the midst of political turmoil.
1. Prologue

Prologue

An abridged excerpt from Victor Hugo's "Les Misérables"

"_Shoot me," said Enjolras_

_The audacity to die well always moves men. It seemed as though the menacing majesty of Enjolras, disarmed and motionless, weighed on that tumult…the young man had no wound. His beauty, augmented at that moment by his dignity._

"_Do you wish your eyes bandaged?" asked a National Guardsman_

"_No," Enjolras replied. (Hugo, pg. 1250-1251)_

His indifference seemed to shake the trembling guardsman. Enjolras continued to study him with his piercing blue eyes until he heard the sniper cock the rifle. The last image that he saw before the first of the eight bullets pierced his chest was his Adrienne.


	2. Adrienne

Chapter One

Adrienne

The sun shone brightly in the square, illuminating everything in its omnipresent sight. Gushing water from the stone fountain, in the square's center, glittered like a thousand diamonds, an entrancing sight. A young man sat at the sparkling pool's edge, yet he did not take in the beauty. His sapphire eyes instead scoured the dull black and white print of the livre* propped on his lap. A furrowed brow revealed a deep thought formulating in his overactive brain. The thought must have yielded some unforeseen insight for he began to furiously scribble something on a worn journal by his side. His quill bobbed vivaciously, never ceasing, until an unwelcome intruder prompted the stylus's master to halt the dictation of his mind's most profound workings.

"Monsieur Enjolras?"

The young man's head shot up, his disgruntled expression mirroring his exasperation at the interruption.

"Quoi?*" he began shortly. He had wanted to say, "What were you thinking for interrupting a man busy at work?" But, then again, he had not expected the étranger* to possess such luminescent femininity. The femme* had dark brown tresses that cascaded down her shoulders in light ringlets before ending at her waist. Her eyes shone like two emeralds and were framed by long voluminous eyelashes. Perfectly arched eyebrows gave her face a stoic look, but the harshness was offset by plump smiling lips, the color of a pink carnation. High cheekbones gave her an exotic flair which was complemented by her slightly tan complexion. For a moment, Enjolras could not summon up any words to articulate his chagrin and a pregnant pause roared in his reddening ears. Enjolras did not usually find himself at a loss for words. Actually, he never did.

"Je suis désolé*," the young woman said, breaking the silence. "I did not mean to interrupt your work." Her pale cheeks flamed crimson in mortification, even more so than Enjolras'.

"No, it is me that should be sorry," Enjolras amended, finally regaining the ability to speak.

Forgetting the reason for his irritation, he abruptly stood. Holding out his ink-stained hand, he winced as his large leather-bound book landed on the cobblestones at his feet with a resonant thud, followed by the eruption of various yellowed leaflets from the interior.

"Mon Dieu!" Enjolras cried as a breeze ruffled through the square, as if on cue, upsetting his precious notes. He dropped to his knees and began to frantically gather them. Of course, some of them escaped his grasp and began to dance along the ground in an infuriatingly alluding dance. To add to his horror, the young woman began to laugh. He felt his cheeks begin to redden again, in embarrassment and anger. Shooting her a dagger-like look, he took off after his rogue papers. From behind, he could hear the click of the woman's heeled shoe as she followed in hot pursuit. As he desperately grabbed up the renegade notes, he noticed out of the corner of his eye, the young woman attempting her own search-and-rescue mission. When the duo had successfully re-captured all of Enjolras' important documents; they returned to the fountain.

"Merci," Enjolras muttered, reclaiming the last of his property from the woman's soft hands. As their skin touched, he felt a surge of electricity jolt through him and his breath caught in his throat. What was wrong with him? He was acting like a babbling idiot! Still, he could not make eye contact with the woman after his indecent and impertinent behavior. He instead busied himself with re-assembling his things into some semblance of order.

"Il n'y pas de quoi*," the woman replied. She hesitated a moment before saying, "Au revoir, monsieur."

As she started to walk away, Enjolras came to his senses. "Wait!" he said.

Slowly, the young woman turned around. "Oui, monsieur?"

Setting his book carefully on the fountain's edge, Enjolras finally met her gaze.

With a forced smile, he said, "What is it that you needed? I mean…what do you want? I mean…what can I do for you?"

If he could have melted into the ground at that moment and disappear, he would have gladly done it. Yet, there he stood like a complete ignorant moron.

"I am so sorry. I am not normally this rude," he added. "I think it's the heat."

"_The heat? Really? What is wrong with me?"_ Enjolras thought to himself.

The young woman just beamed at him as if he held all the answers to unlock the mysteries of the world.

"I think you are being too hard on yourself, monsieur. It was I who interrupted you. I am the one who is sorry. See, I am being rude again."

Holding out her hand, she said, "My name is Adrienne Beaux."

Enjolras took her hand in his, feeling the electricity pulsing through his blood again, "Julian Enjolras."

"Enchanté," Adrienne replied, her expression mesmerized. Enjolras did not realize the effect that he had on women. He spent most of his life so absorbed in his studies that he was oblivious to the way that women fawned over him. When he looked into the mirror, he saw an ordinary man with an extraordinary mind. Yet, he did not have an ordinary appearance. Most viewed him as a modern Adonis, chiseled to perfection. He had golden locks that hung to the top of his collar in soft waves. His eyes were as deeply blue as the ocean and they had the power of captivating anyone who caught his gaze. These sapphire orbs were framed by dark blonde eyebrows, which were almost always furrowed in concentration. To add to the carved severity of his appearance, Enjolras had a sharp jaw and lips which rarely turned upwards into a smile. All of this and more prompted those around him to regard him reverently for Enjolras represented the epitome of strength and courage.

Noting that Enjolras was growing uncomfortable under her scrutinizing gaze, Adrienne said, "I have heard the people of Paris talking about a young man who has a profound knowledge of law and politics. They say that his name is 'Enjolras.'" When I saw that you fit their description, I had to seek you out."

Frazzled by her declaration, Enjolras said, "Why, may I ask, does a young woman such as yourself seek out one that dotes so much energy on politics and law? I find that most women abhor such topics."

Enjolras did not wish to add the fact that he did not actually know any women at all. He was merely going by the information provided to him by the meager friends that he had.

"You will find monsieur that I am not like most women. My tutor refuses to teach me anything but German, literature, and mathematics. The latter he teaches only on my father's wishes. However, both refuse to indulge me in my interest of law and politics. They feel that they are subjects reserved for men and I should conserve my energy for lighter material. Do you agree monsieur Enjolras?"

Enjolras did not know how to reply to her query. Did he think these subjects should be exclusive to men? Did he want to offer up his time and energy to tutor this beautiful young woman?

Finally, he said, "No, I do not agree. I believe such topics should be taught to anyone who wants to learn. It's refreshing to see someone with such a ravenous appetite for knowledge. If you want, I could gather up some law books for you to peruse at your leisure."

Adrienne clasped her hands together with glee, "Oh monsieur! Merci!"

A genuine smile spread across Enjolras' face.

"You are most welcome," he said. "And if you have any questions, I frequent the Café Musain most evenings, do you know it?"

"Oui," Adrienne replied.

"If you meet me there tomorrow at five 'o'clock, I will have some things prepared for you."

"Merci beaucoup."

"Well, I should be going. I promised mon ami* I would meet him before class."

Adrienne nodded, "A demain, monsieur."

"A demain, mademoiselle."

French Translations:

livre - book

Quoi? - What?

étranger - stranger

femme- woman

Je suis désolé - I am sorry

Mon Dieu - My God

Il n'y pas de quoi - French equivalent to "Don't mention it or Don't worry about it."


	3. La Café Musain

Chapter 2

The Café Musain

A cacophony of sounds greeted Enjolras' ears as he stepped across the threshold of the Café Musain. Arms laden with textbooks, he tried to maneuver through the melee. Men conversed jovially about the day's events as they sipped wine and ate freshly baked bread. The smell of sweat and booze permeated the air, causing Enjolras' nose to wrinkle in distaste. Most of the patrons had already consumed more than their fair share of spirits and the tone of their respective conversations reflected such. Loud booming baritone timbres reverberated off of the walls as their owners discussed the somber state of France. "Vive la Republique," Enjolras muttered to himself as he scoured the crowd for a familiar face. After a few moments, his eyes adjusted to the heavy cigar smoke and he could make out his best friend Combeferre. The young man was deeply engrossed in a philosophy book and did not even notice Enjolras until the latter deposited his heavy books onto the table.

He looked up with a start, "Mon Dieu Julian! Give a man some warning next time."

Chuckling, Enjolras took a seat, "I'm sorry Etienne."

Pushing up his glasses, which had slid down his nose whilst reading, Etienne Combeferre studied his friend with profound curiosity.

"What?" Enjolras asked, buttering a piece of bread.

"Ever since yesterday, you have been acting very strange," Combeferre said, after a calculating pause.

"How so?"

"Well, you are smiling for one thing," Combeferre said, still regarding his friend with interest.

"I smile," Enjolras said defensively before taking a sip of wine.

"It's a rare occurance and when you do…it looks like you're about to cry or you're in pain."

Enjolras shot his friend an incredulous look.

"But ever since yesterday," Combeferre continued, "Your smile is radiant and you look…dare I say, happy?"

"What are you getting at?" Enjolras asked, growing tired of his friend's analytic banter.

"Could this change of character have anything to do with that beautiful young woman you met?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Enjolras said, loosening his cravat.

Sweat had broken out across his brow in anticipation and it did not escape Combeferre's scrutinizing sight.

"You are already perspiring and the girl isn't even here yet?"

"You know Etienne, sometimes I wish you would forget your glasses at home."

"I'm just trying to help," Combeferre said with a smirk. "Oh, is that her?"

Nearly spilling his wine, Enjolras whipped around in his seat to discover Adrienne hesitating in the doorway. She looked incredibly beautiful in her sky blue dress and looked grossly out of place amongst all of the testosterone and grime of the café. When she caught Enjolras' gaze, a smile spread across her face. She waved a small gloved hand at him and he responded by beckoning her to the table.

"Why would you invite a pretty thing like that to a place like this?" Combeferre hissed under his breath.

"Not now, Etienne," Enjolras growled, his nerves beginning to get the better of him.

What had he been thinking? The café was no place for a young lady, but then again, Adrienne had known of it. Perhaps, she had been before.

"Monsieur Enjolras," Adrienne said in her soft mezzo-soprano timbre. "It's so nice to see you again."

Standing up, Enjolras took her hand in his, "Likewise mademoiselle."

Their eyes locked for a few moments longer than was customary before the spell broke.

Blinking, Enjolras dropped her hand and turned his gaze to Combeferre whom, now, was also standing.

"Allow you me to introduce my friend, Etienne Combeferre. Etienne, this is Mademoiselle Beaux."

"Enchanté," Combeferre said, placing a small kiss on her gloved hand.

"Likewise monsieur," Adrienne said with a radiant smile as Enjolras pulled out a chair for her.

As the trio took their seats, Enjolras asked, "Would you care from some wine, Mademoiselle?"

"Oui merci," Adrienne said taking the glass from Enjolras, their fingers brushing against each other. "And please, call me Adrienne."

The two locked gazes once more before being interrupted by Combeferre clearing his throat.

"So I hear that you have quite a ravenous appetite for knowledge," Combeferre said, once Adrienne had taken a few sips of wine.

Tearing her eyes from Enjolras, Adrienne said, "Oui, I have always had a keen interest in politics and law, but my father forbids my tutor from indulging my passion."

"What a shame," Combeferre said with genuine compassion. "I am so glad that you were able to meet my dear friend Julian's acquaintance as well as my own. We would be delighted to share our knowledge with you."

Enjolras wanted to kick his friend and ask him if he happened to have a mouse in his pocket, but decided on a pointed look instead.

Picking up on the hint, Combeferre added, "Of course, Julian is far more versed on those topics than I. My heart lies with philosophy."

"A philosopher and a revolutionary," Adrienne mused allowing her eyes to settle on Enjolras, "What a perfect match."

"Vive la Republique," Combeferre declared, raising his glass.

"Vive la Republique," Adrienne and Enjolras said in unison as the trio's glasses clinked together.

The three scholars spent the rest of the evening in heavy debate over the disparity between the poor and rich. Despite claiming ignorance over the subject of politics, Adrienne proved quite the titillating conversationalist. Her views mirrored those of the amis even though she had grown up in the household of a strict monarchist. Over the years, walking the streets of Paris, she had discovered the horror of abject poverty and often found herself feeling guilty at her fortune.

"You can't blame yourself for that," Enjolras said. "Etienne and I both come from families of circumstance. Yet, we do not value material wealth like most. All we can do to remedy the inequality is to become the solution."

"Do you plan on the leading the revolution yourself?" Adrienne asked in mock seriousness.

"If I had it my way," Enjolras replied, his tone deadly earnest.

The smile faded from Adrienne's face, replaced with a genuine reverence, "You are an extraordinary man, Monsieur Enjolras."

Blushing, Enjolras averted his gaze. Adrienne's emerald eyes seemed to have the ability to bore into his soul.

After a lengthy pause, Enjolras said, "No, if I was…I would have already made a difference. And please, call me Julian."

Again, their eyes locked like emeralds and sapphires glimmering in the candlelight.

"Well, I should be off," Combeferre said, realizing his presence was no longer required. "Shall I take your law books for you?"

"Oui, thank you Etienne," Enjolras said. "I will get them from you tomorrow."

Nodding, Combeferre said, "It was a pleasure to meet you Adrienne."

"Likewise Monsieur Etienne," Adrienne replied.

"A toute l'heure Julian, Combeferre said, clapping Enjolras on the back with his free hand.

"A demain," Enjolras replied, patting Combeferre's shoulder in return. "Oh wait!"

Enjolras grabbed the smallest of the books from the top of the stack in Combeferre's arms.

"_The Prince_? A bit of light reading tonight?" Combeferre remarked, facetiously.

"No, if I wanted light, I would have chosen Plato's _Republic_," Enjolras smiled, playing along.

"Can I leave now?" Combeferre retorted in mock exasperation.

"Goodbye Etienne," Enjolras said with a salute.

"Au revoir," Adrienne trilled in her pleasant lyrical voice.

With a dramatic bow, Combeferre left his companions to their solitude.

Adrienne returned her gaze on Enjolras.

"I should probably head home," she said, regret in her voice. "My father will be angry if I dawdle any longer."

"Shall I order a carriage?"

"Sure, that would be lovely," Adrienne said.

Tossing some slightly crumpled bills onto the table, Enjolras led Adrienne into the cool Parisian night.

"Here," Enjolras said, holding out the book he had snatched from Combeferre. "It's small enough that it can be hidden easily."

A rebellious glint sparkled in his eyes as Adrienne accepted the book with delight. "How scandalous," she pronounced, noting that she, did in fact, hold Machiavelli's _The Prince_ in her hands. She had always wanted to read it, but had obviously never been given the opportunity.

"I will return it soon, I promise," she vowed.

"Take your time," Enjolras said. "Though for selfish reasons I hope you finish it quickly…I would like to talk to you about it."

"Lucky for you, I am a rabid consumer of books."

Noticing that Adrienne had begun to shiver, Enjolras removed his coat.

"Here," he said as he wrapped the woolen garment around her shuddering shoulders.

"But Monsieur Enj…I mean Julian, what about you?" she asked her teeth chattering.

"I'm not cold," Enjolras lied.

"Thank you," she said demurely, her cheeks flushed.

"Don't mention it," Enjolras said, motioning for a carriage.

When the black fiacre halted before them, Enjolras offered his hand to Adrienne. The warmth of his skin sharply juxtaposed with the tingling numbness of her own sent a shiver through her body. She almost gasped, but stopped short as she became transfixed, once more, by his blue eyes…eyes that looked onyx in the dim light of the street. When her rump made contact with the padded seat of the fiacre, she tore her eyes away. She felt his warm hand loosen its grip before hesitantly pulling away.

"Thank you again for everything," Adrienne said, trying to keep her voice steady.

Her rapidly beating heart threatened to betray her feelings.

"You are quite welcome," Enjolras said. "Anytime you want to talk, you know where to find me."

And then, in a bold gesture, Enjolras grasped her trembling left hand and pressed his lips to it. It lasted mere seconds, but Adrienne could feel warmth spread through her entire being and she no longer felt cold.

"Au revoir Adrienne," Enjolras said, as he backed away to hand the driver some francs.

"Au revoir Julian," she replied, unable to take her eyes off of him until the carriage pulled away and he faded from sight.


	4. The Idiot

Chapter 3

The Idiot

The crisp autumn breeze swirled about the woman's flowing skirts, chilling her legs. Wrapping her shall tighter about her, she continued on, not deterred from her errand. A group of gamin's scurried out in front of her, covered in grime. Their ruddy faces reflected an air of wisdom beyond their years. Tattered rags covered their small frames and only two of the five had shoes, albeit sole less. Despite their haphazard appearance, they projected youthful vitality and health.

The oldest of the gamins tipped his hat in an exaggerated display of respect, "Good afternoon mademoiselle."

"Good afternoon," Adrienne replied, smiling down at him.

"Does you think you could spare us a sous or two?" one of the younger gamins asked. He had a mousy face with a yellowed overbite. Freckles dotted his nose and cheeks. His brown hair stuck up in the back because unlike the other four, he did not seem to own a hat.

"Of course," Adrienne said, her heart breaking at their misfortune.

She reached into the coin purse attached to her wrist and extracted ten sous. One by one, she plopped two sous apiece into the outstretched hands of each of the gamins. Their little eyes wide with shock and gratitude, they let out a collective exclamation of gratuity. Bidding them good day and urging them to stay out of trouble, she parted ways. Unbeknownst to her, the selfless act had not gone unnoticed.

"Trying to save Paris one poor child at a time, Mademoiselle Beaux?"

Looking up, Adrienne's eyes met the hazel irises of Christian Lurondeux, the son of a wealthy Baron. She had known the young National Guardsman since childhood and her father made no secret of his admiration for him. Adrienne, however, could not stand him. He possessed all of the arrogance and narcissism that a spoiled aristocrat normally fostered. These traits, made his handsome face, repulsive for he always wore a self-satisfied smirk. He stood at approximately five foot nine inches, which Adrienne noticed contrasted starkly with Julian's imposing six foot two. Julian…she could not stop thinking about him. She could not help comparing every man that she encountered to him. She noted that Christian's gold eyes did not draw her in like Julian's fierce blues. The former's dark brown, closely cropped hair, though fashionable, did not look as striking as Julian Enjolras' wavy blonde mane. Most of the women in Paris swooned over Christian Lurondeux. In return, he had become quite familiar with many of them.

"I do what I can," Adrienne responded her tone slightly cold.

She had to tread carefully when it came to Christian. If her father discovered she had treated his prospective son-in-law with any sign of disrespect; he would unleash his wrath upon her. Adrienne's father had quite the volatile disposition.

"You are so naively sweet, my dear Adrienne." Christian said, cupping her chin.

Adrienne detested the condescending tone that he so often used with her. Gently, so as not to incite a scene, she pulled her hand away.

"I should really be going, Christian," she said.

His sickening smile never faltering, Christian said, "Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

"The library," Adrienne said.

If she had mentioned any other location, Christian would have, undoubtedly, wanted to "escort" her. However, the library to him was like pouring holy water on a demon. He abhorred reading and scholarly endeavors, so much so that he had enlisted in the National Guard just to avoid attending the university. He was, to be quite frank, an idiot.

"Well, I guess I will bid you adieu," Christian said with a bow.

Adrienne forced a smile, which Christian was too thick to notice as disingenuous.

"Goodbye Monsieur Lurondeux."

As she made her way to the library, shoulder's hunched against the cold, she bumped into a passerby.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, her reverie broken.

"It's all…Adrienne!"

"Julian!" Adrienne exclaimed, her spirits lifting.

"How have you been?" Enjolras asked his blue eyes alight.

It had been nearly two weeks since the night at the café. Adrienne's father had placed a militarily restrictive curfew upon her when she had returned home late that night.

"Well," she responded, trying to calm her rapidly beating heart. "How about you?"

"Busy," Enjolras admitted. "My professors have been relentless lately."

"My tutor too! Maybe there is some sort of plague spreading amongst the learned people of the world."

Enjolras laughed jubilantly, his perfect teeth gleaming. Adrienne noted that Christian's teeth were already showing signs of decay... one more point for Julian.

"Would you like to take a walk with me?" Julian asked, slight insecurity in his tone. "I am so tired of studying that I am desperate for some fresh air."

"I would love too!" Adrienne replied.

Offering his arm, Enjolras led Adrienne to the park on the outskirts of the city. Thankfully, it was in the opposite direction from which Christian had departed. Adrienne did not feel like explaining herself to the roguish soldier.

For a while, the duo walked in silence, unsure of how to proceed. Finally, Adrienne asked, "I've heard the students at your university have caused quite a stir."

Enjolras raised a blonde eyebrow, "A stir? I'd say more of a maelstrom."

Adrienne giggled, "Father says that the aristocracy will never die. He says that freedom is for the idealist…not the realist."

Frowning, Enjolras was silent for a moment. "I won't speak ill of your father, but I have to boldly disagree."

By now the pair had reached a tiny pond with a bench situated at its side. Frost had begun to settle on its stilled surface and all of the amphibians had evacuated in preparation. Sitting, they regarded the tranquil ambience, breathing in the fresh scent of early winter. The chilled air stung Adrienne's nostrils, causing her green eyes to water. Mistaking the allergic response for chagrin, Enjolras said, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you."

Wiping the water from her face, Adrienne said, "It's just the cold, Julian. It would take more than disagreeing with my old fashioned father to offend my sensibilities. I happen to agree with you. The bourgeoisie's flippant disregard of the poverty plaguing Paris turns my stomach."

"I knew that we shared the same ideology. It's refreshing to see a woman born of aristocracy to empathize with the plight of the disadvantaged."

"Should I conclude from your zeal that you may be one of the 'troublesome' students that my father is talking about?"

With a smile, Enjolras replied, "The worst of the lot."

"Then, you must come to my house for dinner on Saturday night. Maybe you can talk some sense into my father."

Shaking his head, Enjolras replied, "I don't think that is such a good idea. I wouldn't want to tarnish our friendship because of my staunch political preferences."

"Don't be silly. Father will admire your passion, regardless of your stand."

Reluctantly, Enjolras acquiesced to her request knowing; deep down, that it would end badly.


	5. Chez Beaux

Sweat beaded down the young man's temples as he adjusted his black silk cravat with trembling fingers. Taking a deep breath, he reached out and grasped the ice cold brass knocker soldered to a handsome mahogany door. Ornately designed, Enjolras felt slightly nauseated at the notion of an impoverished artisan painstakingly chiseling the portal to perfection with the hope of meager compensation. Such luxury! It tarnished the purity of man, turning him into a narcissistic boar! Adding further to his disgust, a peaked and timid butler answered the door. Clearly, the master of the house did not imbue charity for the humble manservant.

"Bon soir monsieur," the butler greeted his voice weak and gravelly.

"Bon soir," Enjolras responded with a forced smile.

"You must be here for Monsieur Beaux's dinner party."

"Oui monsieur."

He allowed the elder man to take his coat but not before withdrawing four francs from the pocket and slipping the silver coins into his clammy hands.

"Non monsieur," he rasped. "I cannot accept this! The master will never allow it."

"That's why we are not going to tell him," Enjolras rebutted with a conspiratorial grin. "Take it to your family. Buy something nice for yourself."

"Merci! Monsieur, you are too kind."

"The kindest," a feminine voice declared.

Both men turned to find Adrienne descending the marble staircase that spiraled from the fifth floor to the foyer. She looked radiant in her midnight blue gown with its full sweeping skirt and ivory lace trim. A glittering sapphire pendant, that probably cost a thousand francs, hung from her long neck, resting at the swell of her bosom. Her rich mocha tresses had been meticulously combed and woven into an intricate bun and adorned with matching sapphire barrettes. Midnight blue gloves covered her delicate hands and arms up to the elbow.

For a moment, Enjolras felt his breath leave his lungs. Catching himself, he smiled, bowing slightly he said, "Mademoiselle Beaux, you look positively stunning this evening."

A rosy hue came to Adrienne's ivory cheeks at the compliment and she giggled flirtatiously.

"Come," she said, seizing his bare hand with her gloved one. "You must meet father."

To say that Monsieur Beaux embodied every trait that Enjolras detested and resented most was a gross understatement.

The middle-aged man reeked of overpriced cologne and sweat. A portly gentleman, his tailored shirt seemed to stretch dangerously over his distended stomach. Enjolras briefly pondered the likelihood of one of the brass buttons popping free and taking his eye out. Oil oozed from the man's pores, a result of overactive sebaceous glands. In response, the glutton would pull out his handkerchief and mop his swollen face.

"Papa," Adrienne trilled. "Meet mon ami, Monsieur Julian Enjolras."

Enjolras was thrilled to hear her refer to him as an "ami" instead of the less familiar "copain" which would have implicated an acquaintance based relationship.

Holding out a fat stubby fingered hand bedecked with garnet rings, Monsieur Pierre Beaux said, "It's a pleasure to finally meet your acquaintance young man. Adrienne has spoken highly of you."

His heart soaring at the idea of Adrienne speaking of him, Enjolras said, "Likewise monsieur. And thank you for inviting me to your dinner."

"Don't mention it."

A coldness emanated from Pierre's smiling façade. Adrienne did not yet sense the disapproval her father felt for her young friend, but Enjolras could already feel the temperature change. He did not like the way the older man's onyx eyes bore into him or the way his voice sounded when he spoke. The blood in his veins had turned to ice and dread churned violently in his stomach. What had he expected? Adrienne Beaux was out of his league and her father would never approve of their keeping company.

As if to accentuate his theory, the butler led two more guests into the drawing room. A pompous extravagantly attired older gentleman stood erect and imposing despite the onyx cane he held in his quaking hands. He wore a self-satisfied expression that the man next to him mirrored. This man, a young soldier, stood quite a few inches shorter than the old man. His golden eyes bore into Enjolras', sizing him up. Enjolras returned the stare with equal intensity, not willing to surrender his place as of yet.

"Ah, Baron Lurondeux…Christian, I am so pleased that you were able to make it," Pierre said with a genuine smile that he had not imparted on Enjolras.

Stealing a quick glance at Adrienne, Enjolras noted that she had not anticipated the latter guests' arrival. She looked a little gray around the gills and refused to meet the eyes of the young guardsman.

"Who is this?" the guardsman asked, nodding Enjolras' way.

"Oh, this is Monsieur Julian Enjolras, a copain of Adrienne's," Pierre said, trying in vain to keep the venomous judgment from his voice.

"Well, any friend of Adrienne's is a friend of mine," the guardsman said extending his white gloved hand. "I am Lt. Christian Lurondeux."

Enjolras wanted to punch the smug smirk from the arrogant soldier's face but instead he forced a smile and replied, "Nice to meet you."

With that, the butler, a man Pierre referred to as Henri led them into a lavishly prepared dining room. The finest china and silver that money could buy lay sparkling on a ruby red table cloth. Chairs of varnished mahogany stood like stoic sentinels around it, waiting for their famished guests. Before long, roasted duck and raspberry sauce found its way onto the quintet's plates, along with roasted red potatoes and baguettes. Red wine flowed freely into gold goblets as the sumptuous cuisine was consumed.

All the while, Christian chose to interrogate young Enjolras with the support of his father, Jean and, of course, Pierre Beaux.

"So, Monsieur Enjolras, what is it that you do?" Christian said with a pretentious flair.

Setting down his goblet, Enjolras replied, "I attend the university. I study law and politics."

Christian raised a dark eyebrow, "Oh, do you find politics intriguing as of late?"

Enjolras knew what path Christian wanted to take the conversation and he loathed to venture that far. However, he felt strangely compelled to obliterate the pompous fool with his knowledge.

"I have always found politics intensely fascinating," Enjolras said, deciding to tread the topic lightly for Adrienne's sake. He could tell by the pained expression on her china doll face that Christian's antagonism bothered her. Thus, Enjolras did not wish to bait him any further. Even though Adrienne had jested about imparting his political beliefs at the dinner; he knew that she had never imagined that Christian would be present to intensify the situation.

"How do you feel about the state of France today? I know Mademoiselle Beaux goes out of her way to offer charity to the impoverished. Do you share her naïve beliefs?"

Adrienne had the flushed look of someone who had just received a vicious slap. She had grown accustomed to Christian's condescending banter over the years, but never had he spoken so brazenly against her. To further accentuate her horror, Pierre began to guffaw, his lard filled face turning purple. Enjolras felt his anger boil to a dangerous peak inside of him. How dare Christian speak that way to Adrienne! How dare he insult a kind and charitable woman! If he had his way, Christian's simpering face would be smashed into the raspberry sauce on his plate.

"They are not naïve and yes I do!" Enjolras asserted, unable to hide the rage in his voice.

"So, you must be one of the revolutionaries the people have been speaking of…idealistic and brazen."

"I seek to serve the people…those whose cries are not being heard by the king!"

"You speak treason!" Baron Lurondeux exclaimed, slamming his fist upon the table.

"I speak the truth!" Enjolras cried, unable to keep his voice at a conversational decibel.

"You schoolboys are all the same! Arrogant and haughty, dreaming of impossible utopias! Why do you think the monarchy was reestablished? The people wanted it!" Baron Lurondeux's angular face was contorted in fury.

"The bourgeoisie wanted the fat king back on the throne! Do not speak for the humble souls of France as you sit on your gold inlaid dais!"

"That is enough!" Pierre Beaux shouted, reeling the two men back from their frenzy. "I think it is best if you leave Monsieur Enjolras."

"Papa, no," Adrienne cried, grabbing his flabby arm. "He was just stating his opinion and Monsieur the Baron was stating his…there is no reason to expel our guest."

Abruptly standing, Enjolras cast Adrienne an apologetic look before courteously bowing to Pierre. "I thank you for your hospitality Monsieur Beaux and I apologize for my transgressions. Mademoiselle Beaux, have a good evening."

Adrienne looked up at him, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. She had not expected the dinner to take such a detrimental turn.

"Julian…" she began, but Enjolras had already begun to walk away with one last venomous glare at the Lurondeux's.

His booted feet echoed through the deserted foyer as he grabbed his coat and stormed off into the chilled night. A sense of self-loathing descended upon him like a suffocating shroud. Why had he behaved so impetuously? He rarely lost control; yet something about the Baron and his buffoonish son made him lose all sense of rationality. Along with Adrienne's pompous father, they had embodied the crux of Enjolras' loathing. He was almost down the street when he heard the click of a woman's heeled shoe approaching behind him. Turning, he saw Adrienne flushed from the cold with tears streaming down her face.

"Julian, I am so sorry," she sobbed. "I didn't know that they were attending. I would never have invited you, if…"

"Shh," Enjolras said, taking her trembling hands in his. "It is I who should apologize. I shouldn't have taken their bait. If I was a smart man, I would have kept my mouth shut."

"Adrienne!" a tenor timbre yelled from the courtyard behind them. "Come back, this instant!"

"Go," Enjolras urged. "You will be in trouble."

"Meet me in the park tomorrow at ten," Adrienne pleaded.

"I don't know if that's…"

"Please Julian," Adrienne implored, her shining green eyes vivid in the moonlight.

"I will be there," Enjolras conceded, unable to deny her.

"Adrienne Anne Beaux!" Pierre shouted, closer now.

Without hesitating, Adrienne planted a kiss on Enjolras' cheek before scurrying back to the garden; where her incensed father bellowed. For a moment, Enjolras could not move, he placed a frozen hand upon the blessed spot, wondering if he had imagined the gesture. His cheek flamed beneath his icy fingers as he began the long walk back to his apartment.


	6. The Quagmire

The Quagmire

Tension hung in the air like an oppressive cloud as the old aristocrat glared at his daughter from behind a lavish oaken desk. Anger pumped through his blubber laden veins as he puffed hungrily on his pipe. Smoke billowed from its top, stinging Adrienne's eyes as she waited patiently for her father to pass judgment. After a pregnant pause, Pierre Beaux said, "You caused me great embarrassment this evening."

"I am sorry to have displeased you papa, but Christian was…"

"Do not blame Christian for what transpired tonight. Your friend…" He spat out the word "friend" with venomous inflection. "…was completely out of line."

Adrienne felt her own frustration begin to mount, "Christian was intentionally baiting him papa! Julian would never, intentionally, incite a scene."

"That boy is bad news," her father continued, his ears deaf to her excuses. "And you are not to see him again."

Gasping, Adrienne said, "Come now papa, why are you being so rash? Julian is my friend..."

Pierre Beaux slammed his large fist upon the desk, causing Adrienne to flinch. "You are never to see him again, do I make myself clear?"

Tears had begun to fall down Adrienne's cheeks, "Papa, why are you being so cruel? I don't understand."

Heaving himself up from his plush chair, Pierre towered over his shaking daughter. "You will do well to remember your place in this world, Adrienne. You will not be associated with antimonarchists! From this day forward, you will not go anywhere without my permission and without a chaperone. Do you understand?"

"Yes, papa," Adrienne choked, trying to calm her quaking body.

Blind with tears, she vacated her father's study and ran up the winding staircase to her bedroom. Slamming the door behind her, she collapsed on the bed, exhausted from the night's events. A million thoughts whirled through her troubled mind ranging from longing for Julian to hatred for Christian and his imbecile father. She wanted nothing more than to run to the Café Musain and have a glass of wine with Julian and Etienne, all the while shouting out "Liberté, Egalite, and Fraternité!" Adrienne refused to allow her old-fashioned father to dictate her heart. Nothing would keep her from seeing Julian again; she just had to figure out how to hide it from him.

As if on cue Adrienne's nanny entered the room, a basket of freshly laundered linen in her arms. Ever since her mother had died, when she was ten years old, the middle-aged woman had filled the void. Mathilde always had a smiling face, kind words, open arms, and a soft bosom to comfort her surrogate child. She loved Adrienne with all of her heart and the young woman reciprocated those sentiments.

"What's wrong, child?" Mathilde asked when she noticed Adrienne's tear stained face.

Setting down the laundry basket, she sat on the bed's edge, running a tender hand through Adrienne's hair.

The sympathetic look on her beloved nanny's face caused the tears to begin to flow again.

"Tonight's dinner was a disaster," Adrienne sobbed falling into Mathilde's arms. "Papa hates my friend Julian and forbids me to see him again."

Rocking Adrienne back and forth, Mathilde responded, "Did you tell him how much his friendship means to you?"

Nodding, Adrienne said, "He would have none of it. He told me that I am not to leave the house without his consent and in the company of a guardian."

"What made him dislike your ami?"

Sitting up, Adrienne said, "Julian has certain…beliefs that conflict with fathers'."

"I see," Mathilde said. "Your father does seem to loath contradictory ideals."

"I was supposed to meet Julian tomorrow at the park, but now father is being so unreasonable…"

"You will get to see him," Mathilde declared. "He can't refuse your need to see Father Martin."

Realization dawned on Adrienne's face as she processed Mathilde's devious suggestion. How could her father prohibit her from attending shrift? Also, the goodly priest _had_ offered to tutor her in the archaic languages of Aramaic and Latin, two tongues her tutor, Monsieur Durand, failed to properly explicate.

However, when she broached the topic with Pierre the next day, he did not approve.

"That is unnecessary," he said. "Monsieur Durand is more than capable of bestowing such knowledge upon you."

"But father," Adrienne begged. "His diction is abysmal! He can't even write it! Father Martin has offered to tutor me for quite some time. Please do not deny me this!"

Pierre took a lengthy pause before stating, matter-of-factly, "I do not trust you. I know you are using this as an excuse to go see that boy!"

"Papa," Adrienne gasped, appalled and astonished that he had seen right through her ruse, "I have never given you a reason to distrust me! I have realized my error and will never speak to Julian again. You have humbled me in that respect. Why must you deny me this one pleasure?"

"I will not indulge this dramatic display. You are to return to your room until Monsieur Durand arrives. I will have Mathilde send for you."

He waved his hand dismissively before returning his attention to the papers upon his desk.

Infuriated at his nonchalance, Adrienne stormed from the study. Once she reached the haven of her room, she sat at her ivory inlaid bureau and took out some floral stationary. With a trembling hand, she dipped her quill into a half-empty inkwell. It took her a moment to formulate the proper words, but she was soon scribbling away ferociously. Blowing the ink dry, she enveloped the note and sealed it with red wax. She added Julian's name in a flourish on the front before abdicating her chair to seek out Mathilde.

She found her beloved guardian on her knees, scrubbing one of Pierre's oversized shirts on a washboard. Her graying auburn hair had begun to slip from the braid that hung down to her waist. The wispy tendrils fell into her pink sweaty face as she labored to finish her task. Upon hearing footsteps, she looked up and smiled. Adrienne's presence always lifted the older woman's spirits. However her delighted expression quickly evaporated when she saw the look of distress upon the young woman's face.

"What happened ma chérie?" she asked, allowing the sudsy linen she held to sink back into the bucket.

"He refused," Adrienne lamented. "He said he does not trust me anymore."

"That is absurd," Mathilde declared. "You have done nothing wrong!"

Wiping her hands on her apron, she enveloped Adrienne in a compassionate embrace. "What if I spoke to him?"

"That won't do any good," Adrienne replied. "He is dead set on his vendetta."

"What can I do?" Mathilde asked.

"Can you take this to Julian? He is supposed to meet me at the Luxembourg Gardens. Tell him that I am sorry."

"Of course, my child," Mathilde said. "I will go at once. Wait, what does he look like?"

Giggling, Adrienne said, "That would help wouldn't it? He is tall and blonde with beautiful blue eyes. You can't miss him. He is positively blinding."

"I thought he was just a friend," Mathilde playfully chastised.

Blushing, Adrienne rebutted, "Of course, but I'd be a liar if I said he was not handsome."

"Indeed," Mathilde said. "Well, I'm off to seek out this beautiful young man."

"Thank you, Mathilde!" Adrienne exclaimed, beaming like a small child who had just received a handful of sweets.

Mathilde watched with a weary smile as her young ingénue departed the room. She would do anything for Adrienne but she still worried that she had made the wrong decision. If Adrienne fell in love with this boy; which Mathilde feared had already begun to happen, then a quandary of epic proportions would soon mount. Pierre Beaux would never allow his daughter to marry for love, especially to an idealistic student. She would have to settle for a member of her own class like Christian Lurondeux. However, Mathilde could not break that to her yet. She did not have the coldness in her heart. Thus, she wrapped her worn shawl about her and abandoned her laundry to seek out young Julian Enjolras.

She found him sitting on a bench in the shadow of a bare oak tree. He had his nose buried in a large book and, at first, did not hear her approach. Clearing her throat, Mathilde smiled shyly as the handsome young man looked up. Adrienne had not exaggerated; he surely was a sight. Never had she seen eyes so blue, not since Edward…wait, she must not allow herself to think of him, not now. Shaking her reverie, she said, "Monsieur Enjolras?"

"Yes?" he said a perplexed expression on his face.

"My name is Mathilde Gironde; I am a friend of Adrienne's.

"Oh," Enjolras exclaimed, standing up. "Is she alright?"

"Yes monsieur, but unfortunately, she was unable to meet you; so she sent me with this."

Enjolras took the note from Mathilde's numb wind chilled hands.

Noting her discomfort, he said, "Do you not have gloves, Madame?"

"Non monsieur," Mathilde said. "I forgot them."

"Here," Enjolras said, removing his own leather gloves and handing them to the shivering woman.

"Monsieur," Mathilde began, but Enjolras merely smiled.

"Please, take them. I am just leaving anyway. Oh and here's for your trouble."

He pulled 30 francs from his coat pocket and slipped them into Mathilde's newly gloved hands.

"Sir," Mathilde exclaimed, unable to articulate her gratitude. The woman never received gifts, not even after serving the Beaux's for sixteen years.

"Just tell Adrienne, that I am sorry." Enjolras said his expression somber.

"Funny," Mathilde said. "Adrienne told me to tell you the very same thing."

Enjolras shook his head, "She has, absolutely, nothing to be sorry about."

"I will pass that along, monsieur and I thank you for everything. You are a true gentleman…there are not very many of those left."

A slight blush came to Enjolras' cheeks at the compliment and he averted his oceanic gaze.

"Au revoir," Mathilde said.

"Au revoir."

Once the matronly woman had departed, Enjolras ripped open the note from Adrienne. Inside he found the most elegant flourish, it read:

Dear Julian,

I am so sorry for what transpired yesterday evening. Christian is an ignorant dog that should be muzzled in order to spare the world of his ignorance. Unfortunately, my father finds the young guardsman to be the epitome of perfection and will never fault him for his transgressions. Thus, my meeting with you had to be terminated for my father will not allow me to leave the house. He forbids me to see you again, but I simply will not indulge such a petty prohibition. I wish to meet you tonight in the church gardens. Father will be asleep and Mathilde would never betray my confidence. I will be there, I promise.

Sincerely, Adrienne

Enjolras read the note once more before sinking back down on the bench. What he had feared had proved justified. Pierre Beaux did not approve of him and Adrienne keeping company. He should have kept his mouth shut and stomached the ignorance that had surrounded him. How could he have acted like such a fool? He would see Adrienne tonight, though and rectify the situation. He did not like the idea of her sneaking out to meet him, but he could not fathom the reality of never setting his eyes upon her again. Somehow, they would find a way to work out the quagmire into which they had found themselves.


	7. The Rue D'Ermes

The Rue D'Ermes

The bitter cold nipped at Adrienne's nose as she slipped from the house and into the night. Mathilde had let her out through the servant's quarters; when all the other maids had gone to sleep. Wrapping her cloak tightly about her, she hurried off to the church's gardens, averting her gaze from the passerby she encountered. A dark black scarf covered her hair, partially obscuring her identity. She had to remain anonymous lest her father receive notification of her deceit. Her journey appeared uneventful until a group of inebriated soldiers rounded the corner at the far end of the street. In their stupor, they could barely make out her feminine form but they recognized it, nonetheless. Her heart pounding in her ears, Adrienne turned on her heel and began briskly walking in the opposite direction. The intoxicated guardsman sped up their pace in response, shouting jeers and propositions.

"Come on mademoiselle," a deep baritone timbre called. "We won't bite, come back here."

"Where are you off to in such a hurry," another voice called.

Adrienne's blood ran cold when she recognized the owner…Christian. She had to find an escape route! If Christian came any closer, he would, undoubtedly, recognize her and her façade would unravel.

Turning down a dark alleyway, she hunched against the wall. In the darkness, she felt her way down the cold rock wall until she reached another side street. Her eyes unaccustomed to the moonless onyx night, Adrienne fumbled down the putrescent road. Fear overcame her as she realized she had stumbled upon a treacherous avenue. Beggars lined the street, moaning for a sous, their ragged breaths barely able to summon the strength to plead. Their haunted dead eyes locked upon Adrienne, dressed in a fine silk dress. Clearly, she did not belong among them and they could smell it immediately. Her fine cologne, immaculate unmarked complexion, all pointed to wealth and hygiene not afforded to those who walked the streets. These creatures of the underworld slinked towards her, surrounding her. True terror bubbled within her and she wished Christian had found her. A beating from her father would pale in comparison to a gang rape in the gutter. Thieves, prostitutes, and all sorts of unsavory beings gravitated towards the virginal ingénue.

"What a beautiful dress," a toothless emaciated woman said, sidling up beside her. "Must of cost you five hundred francs."

"Oh I don't know," Adrienne said, trying to gently push past her.

"Where are ya off to in such a hurry?" asked a tall gaunt man with typhus scars on his cheeks.

"I was on my way to church," Adrienne admitted, trying to hide the fear in her voice.

"I'll take you there," another man said, his yellowed smile chilling and insincere.

He leaned down, his face inches from Adrienne's, "Of course, you'd have to do me a favor first."

Repulsed, Adrienne recoiled from his putrescent stench, stumbling. Her boot caught on an uneven cobblestone causing her to hurtle towards the ground. She managed to catch herself before her face hit the urine coated pavement. Her hands and knees bore the brunt of the violent collision, triggering a searing pain to radiate throughout her body. She felt several hands yank her back up and turned to find the tall gaunt man and the yellow toothed man leering down at her.

"Please," she said, her voice quivering. "Just let me pass."

"Sure," yellow teeth said. "But first you have to pay the toll.

With great force, the tall gaunt man pushed her back to the ground and began to unbutton his pants. Adrienne could see his arousal straining through the fabric and her stomach twisted.

"No please," she begged, her voice choked with tears. "I will give you money, here!"

She pulled out her silk coin purse and shoved it into yellow tooth's hands. He too had begun to undo his trousers, hungry for the spoils.

"We'll take that too," rasped the tall gaunt man. "But we also want a taste of your milky skin."

"Mounting her, he buried his vile face into her scarfed head.

"Hmm," he said, winking at his friend. "She smells of lavender."

Adrienne's struggles merely seemed to excite him more and he laughed jubilantly at her horror.

Wild-eyed, Adrienne screamed for help, but none of the beggars or prostitutes would come to her aid. No one here cared for the purity of a little aristocrat. Just as the man began to lift up Adrienne's skirts, a miracle happened.

Enjolras had departed his apartments later than expected. Combeferre had insisted that he read his analysis of "Plato's Republic" before disembarking. Thus, he had decided to cut through the Rue d'Ermes to save time. Nothing frightened him; so the prospect of journeying through the slum district at night did not deter him. However, his thoughts rapidly shifted when he heard the sound of a woman screaming in terror. Running towards the source, he found a barely illuminated side street with a small group of people huddled around three forms. Without hesitation, he approached the fray and found two men attempting to violate a young maiden. Hurling himself at the vile wretches; he punched the taller of the two, causing his nose to spurt crimson. The other man, a short reedy curmudgeon attempted to incapacitate Enjolras with a flimsy pocket knife, but the latter was too fast. He swiftly kicked the smaller man in the groin before landing a blow to his pockmarked cheek.

"You better leave, before I kill you," Enjolras snarled, his blue eyes flashing fire.

"Let's go," the tall gaunt man hissed, holding his gushing nose. "We don't need any coppers coming 'round!"

Their trousers slipping down their hips, the two miscreants ran off towards the direction of the sewers.

"The show's over!" Enjolras spat at the yellow eyed onlookers who had slithered out of the shadows to revel in the wealthy young lady's misfortune. The reprobates brazenly glared at the finely dressed student, but decided against inciting another scene. Rolling their bulging eyeballs, they withdrew into the abyss of their various hovels. Only a few prostitutes remained on the desolate street, waving coquettishly at Enjolras.

"For a few sous, monsieur l'etudiant, we'll show you a good time," they called, their voices gravelly.

They looked like clowns with their rainbow colored eyes and ruby red lips. Tattered red dresses hung from their withered frames and their mottled skin bore open lesions. Disgusted, Enjolras turned away from the overly made up women and back to his distressed damsel. His heart stopped when he registered the woman's identity.

"Adrienne!" he gasped, sinking to his knees beside her.

"Julian," she sobbed, grasping his coat. "I was so scared, I…"

"Shh," Enjolras soothed, lifting her into his arms. "You are safe now."

Her small arms wrapped around his neck as she laid her wet cheek against his shoulder. In the distance, a church bell chimed twelve times.

"You saved me," Adrienne cried. "They…I thought…"

Enjolras brushed back some hair that had escaped her, now grimy, headscarf. Even with tears rendering her eyes swollen and bloodshot, he noted that her beauty still persevered. His heart ached at the pain she had endured during the past two days. Pain directly attributed to his actions or inactions. He should have told Mathilde that Adrienne's meeting him put her at far too much risk, but he had selfishly desired to see her. If he hadn't shown up, the rakes would have, undoubtedly, murdered Adrienne after they had exhausted her body. The thought nearly brought bile to his throat, but he shook his reverie for Adrienne's sake. He needed to get her inside and cleaned up. Deciding the church would offer them solace; he vacated the eerily quiet Rue D'Ermes and found himself on a renovated and fashionable street. The church was situated between two large elm trees and its steeple loomed over them, silent and imposing. A faint hymn could be heard from the doorway as Enjolras stepped across the threshold and into the sanctified building. The smell of incense wafted towards him as his eyes adjusted to the bright flickering light of the candles. A lonely nun knelt piously at the front pew, oblivious to their entrance. After she had muttered the last of her Latin incantation, she stood to blow the candles out. She gasped when she caught sight of a large shadow moving across the rock wall. Turning, she found Enjolras standing sheepishly before her, Adrienne weeping into his chest. Unaccustomed to strange men venturing into the holy shrine at such a nocturnal hour, she narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"I am sorry to disturb your prayers, sister," Enjolras said. "But this young woman is in need of your care. Might you have some water and lye to clean her up?"

"What happened to her?" the sister asked, still apprehensive. "She is not a prostitute is she?"

"No!" Enjolras exclaimed, appalled. "She was on her way home from tending a poor family when some vagabonds viciously attacked her."

Enjolras felt guilty at lying to the godly woman, but he could not tell her that Adrienne had snuck from her home to visit him in the middle of the night. What would she possibly think? Thankfully, Adrienne and Pierre were not parishioners at this church. Hence, Adrienne had picked the unsuspecting spot for their meeting. Thus, the likelihood of the nun recognizing Adrienne and speaking to Pierre seemed obsolete.

"Well," the sister said. "I will take her back with me, wait here."

"Of course," Enjolras said. "Merci beaucoup."

For what seemed like an eon, Enjolras sat in front of a large wooden crucifix in silence. Thoughts whirred through his overactive brain like a million hornets, stinging and maddening him. He worried about Adrienne's psyche in the aftermath of the attempted assault. Surely, such a close call would haunt her and wake her in the dead of night. He could not risk such a travesty occurring again. Their correspondence had to end as much as it pained him. He knew her father would never allow them to meet by day's light and meeting by the moon's glow had proven far too perilous. Adrienne would begrudge such a decision but it served her best interests.

While his thoughts continued to consume him, Adrienne reappeared. The nun had sponged away the grime that had marred her porcelain skin and expunged the muck from her dress. Smiling weakly at Enjolras, she said, "I think I am ready to go home now."

"Of course," Enjolras said, taking her hand in his. "Thank you for your kindness, sister." Enjolras said before guiding his shaken friend into the night.

For a while, they did not speak. It was not until they reached Adrienne's street that she stopped. Worried, Enjolras looked down at her, "What's wrong."

"I don't want to go back, not yet," she said, pulling him towards an alcove by an abandoned house.

"Adrienne," Enjolras said. "You've been through a lot. You need to get some rest."

"Julian, please," Adrienne said, shaking her head. "I need to tell you something."

For a moment, she was silent, unsure of how to proceed. Then, she did something entirely unexpected, she kissed him.


	8. Romance in the Night

Romance in the Night

As soon as her lips met his, Enjolras' pulse quickened, his ears deafened by the arrhythmic thumping of his heart. His hands trembled as he pulled her closer to him, returning the kiss with ardor. When they finally broke apart, they could not speak, their breath coming out in violent pants. Adrienne averted her gaze, chagrined by her boldness.

"Adrienne," Enjolras whispered, gently cupping her chin and lifting it towards him.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that," Adrienne admitted, her voice quivering. "You must think I'm a…"

Her words were cut off by Enjolras' lips upon hers. The searing kiss left her light headed and she clung to him for support.

"Julian?" she whispered. Her long lashed eyes looked up at him, trying to read his expression.

"I have wanted to do that since the day we met," Enjolras confessed.

"Really?" Adrienne asked her tone shriller than normal.

"Really," Enjolras confirmed his smile warm and bright a stark contrast to his usual stoic expression.

Adrienne reached up and stroked his smooth clean shaven cheek. "I was worried you would think less of me."

"Nothing…" Enjolras said his tone turning serious. "…could ever make me think less of you. You are perfect."

Blushing, Adrienne said, "Where do we go from here?"

Enjolras' brow furrowed, "I want to see you again, but meeting at night…it's too risky."

"My father will never allow me to leave the house during the day. Besides, with Christian patrolling the streets; we would be discovered."

Enjolras pondered this for a moment before stating, "Then, I will meet you, right here, every week when the house has gone to bed."

Adrienne lit up at the proposal and hugged Enjolras tightly.

"Then we'll go someplace safer…" he continued. "…somewhere more intimate. But now, you must go get some rest. You look like you're going to fall over."

"It's not from exhaustion," Adrienne said with a smile.

Enjolras' elated expression mirrored hers as he leaned down to kiss her again. How natural it felt! Her warm mouth molded perfectly to his as if designed to bond. Stroking her hair, he pulled back and gazed down at her with veneration. He had never seen such a beautiful creature in his entire life. For the first time ever, he felt truly blissful. Never had a person, especially a woman, cracked open his marble exterior, exposing the warm passionate heart within. He felt a vulnerability that he had never experienced but it did not scare him. For now, he had another soul to share his life with. Of course, he had camaraderie with his peers, his best friend, Etienne, but he had never truly been able to shed his stoic character. Around Adrienne, he could let go and abandon all pretenses. He needed her and he could tell that she needed him.

Taking her hand, he brought it to his lips. "We will make this work," he vowed. "Someday your father will come to accept us and we won't have to hide.

He did not really believe those words but, subconsciously, he prayed for them to come true.

"I hope you are right, Julian," Adrienne whispered. "I could not bear it if… no; we will not dwell on the possibilities…"

Nodding, Enjolras wrapped his arm around her and led her up the street to the titanic Chateau Beaux.

"Well," Adrienne said when they had reached the back gate. "Thank you again for saving me…I don't know what…"

"Adrienne, I would do it again in a heartbeat. As long as I am living, I will not let any harm come to you."

"I know," Adrienne said clutching his hand. "You are a truly chivalric man. You don't belong of this time."

Wrapping her arms around him, she whispered into his ear, "I can't wait until I see you again."

"Me too," he whispered back, kissing the top of her head. "What about Monday?"

"Until Monday," she breathlessly whispered, kissing him on the cheek.

Enjolras watched as she disappeared into the side door that led to the servant's quarters. His lips burned despite the frigid temperature. He would count the minutes until he felt her satin mouth once more.

When Adrienne crossed the threshold, she could immediately sense a presence. Terror seized her until she realized the shadowy figure was Mathilde.

"Mathilde," Adrienne gasped. "You frightened me. I thought you were father."

Quietly chuckling, Mathilde said, "Thanks, maybe I will forgo dinner for the next year, then."

"That's awful!" Adrienne admonished, but she could not suppress a laugh at the truth of the statement.

"How did your meeting go?" Mathilde asked, turning serious.

"Wonderful," Adrienne said, she would not tell her beloved nanny about the close call on the Rue D'Ermes or…the kiss.

"What happened to your dress?" Mathilde asked with abject horror when she took in Adrienne's disheveled state.

"I tripped," Adrienne lied, unable to meet the good woman's eyes.

"Adrienne," Mathilde said in a warning tone. "You didn't…"

"Dear God, Mathilde!" Adrienne hissed realizing what the older woman had suggested. "I would never! What kind of a woman do you think I am?"

"I'm sorry," Mathilde said bowing her head apologetically. "I just…never mind."

"I will confide in you that my feelings for Julian Enjolras run a little deeper than friendship, but I would never compromise my propriety."

"I was afraid that you were going to say that," Mathilde said, sinking back into a wooden rocking chair. The only light in the diminutive chamber, a lonely candle, faintly flickered, casting a preternatural glow upon Mathilde's age lined face. Sighing, she continued, "Adrienne, it is too dangerous for you and that boy to…it just can't be."

_If she only knew_

Adrienne knelt before her guardian, "Mathilde, I care for him deeply. I cannot bear to never see him again."

"Sweetheart," Mathilde said her tone gentle. "Did I ever tell you about Edward?"

Adrienne shook her head.

Looking off into the distance, deep in thought, Mathilde said:

"I met him when I was your age, seventeen and he was just twenty. When I first laid eyes on him, I could not fathom how one man could possess such beauty. He looked a lot like your Julian, long blonde hair, royal blue eyes and a fierce expression. I never once expected anything to come of us, but I was wrong. Our love was instantaneous and it was passionate. I had never felt that way about a man before and the intensity of my affection frightened me. Of course, his father, a former sailor in the king's navy did not approve of our union for I was merely a lowly maid. Edward didn't care though; he continued to see me until that fateful day when he impulsively enlisted in the French Grande Armee. He promised to return, he just wanted to defy his father and fight for freedom. Sadly, he did not keep his word…he died on during the Battle of Waterloo…I never saw him again."

Mathilde had tears streaming down her face when she finished her tale. Quickly wiping them away, she said, "I just worry that…"

"Mathilde," Adrienne said her face full of compassion. "I would rather have a short lived romance with Julian than to never experience love at all."

"Just be careful, my dear," Mathilde said, clutching her hands.

"I will Mathilde, I promise." Adrienne vowed.

Hugging Adrienne to her breast, Mathilde whispered, "You have my blessing."

The next day, Mathilde woke Adrienne at dawn. Apparently, Pierre had something pressing to address and it could not wait. Adrienne's heart thudded loudly, threating to burst from her chest. Had someone seen her the night before? Was her father going to send her away? The adrenaline pumping through her veins erased any fatigue she may have felt. Three hours of sleep seemed like an eternity when one face calamitous confrontation.

When she entered her father's study, he wore an intensely elated expression.

_He must not know anything. Or else the vein in his temple would be bulging out and his face would have turned the color of an eggplant._

"You wanted to see me father?" Adrienne asked with disingenuous cheer.

"Yes, my darling," Pierre said, clapping his hands jubilantly.

_He definitely didn't know anything._

"Something wonderful has happened," Pierre continued. "Baron Lurondeux has invited you to his soiree tonight."

"Oh?" Adrienne said, trying to feign excitement.

"Christian is greatly anticipating your arrival."

Adrienne clenched her jaw, "I am delighted to hear it," she lied, knowing her father wanted to hear those words coming from her mouth.

She thought that by indulging her father's demands; he would loosen his iron clad hold upon her life.

That day, Mathilde grumbled as she painstakingly scrubbed Adrienne's lightly tanned skin and twisted her long coffee colored locks into an intricate bun. She could sense Adrienne's displeasure at having to endure yet another meeting with Christian and it enraged her. Whilst tying Adrienne's corset, Mathilde finally spoke.

"I'm sorry that you are being forced to do this."

Adrienne sighed, "It was inevitable. Father has been trying to marry me off to Christian for years."

Mathilde frowned at Adrienne's disheartened tone. "It's not like your marrying him tonight. You still have a say; it's your life!"

But both women knew that the latter part of her statement did not ring true. Pierre could impart any fate he desired upon his daughter. Adrienne though, would rather join a convent than marry the dastard guardsman.

"I will just maintain appearances tonight…" Adrienne said, trying to reassure herself, "…earn father's trust again."

With a weak smile, Mathilde dabbed a bit of rose water behind Adrienne's ears before assessing her.

"You look beautiful," she mused.

She truly did and Christian agreed wholeheartedly when she arrived at his chateau.

"My darling Adrienne," he said kissing her gloved hand. "Not a woman in Paris rivals your beauty."

Averting her gaze to hide the disgust on her face, Adrienne said, "You are too kind, Lt. Lurondeux."

Christian stiffened at the use of his titled name. Why did she refuse to call him Christian? Was she still angry about how he had treated the schoolboy?

Shaking the thought, he took her arm and led her into the ballroom. For a while, they waltzed in silence, swirling around the dance floor. Christian intently sought Adrienne's eyes but she seemed to look right through him. He felt himself growing impatient at her aloofness and he voiced his concern, "I feel you are not enjoying yourself."

"No," Adrienne said with a forced smile. "I am having a splendid time."

Maybe, she was just tired. Christian could not comprehend the idea of a woman not willingly responding to his advances.

As they danced, Adrienne tried to picture herself with Christian but the idea revolted her. It was not doubt, that he was a handsome man. His short wavy hair was fashionably swept back and his hazel eyes sparkled under the chandelier's lights. He had a stylish mustache above his cupid bowed lips and no stubble marred his cheeks. However, Adrienne pinpointed all of his flaws as well. His nose was a little hooked, he had a small mole on his right cheek, his teeth were yellowed and his breath smelled horrid. The aforementioned combined with his reprehensible moral character made him a horrific individual.

Christian mistook her scrutinizing gaze as evidence of her attraction. Smiling, he swept her out of the crowded ballroom and onto a secluded balcony that overlooked a moonlit garden. The Seine sparkled like a million diamonds in the distance and the white sails of ships in the quay billowed with the light wind. The picturesque night would have been even more exhilarating had Adrienne been in the company of Julian. Also, the cold air nipped uncomfortably at her bare arms and she began to shiver uncontrollably. Unlike Julian, Christian did not offer her his warm winter coat but instead seemed oblivious to her discomfort.

"It's a breathtaking sight isn't it?" Christian said looking down at her.

Reddening under his scrutinizing gaze, Adrienne looked out at the beautiful Parisian landscape. She tried to imagine herself alone, but Christian's warm breath on her neck jarred her back to reality. She felt his hand wrap around her small waist. Tensing, she tried to extricate herself from his embrace, but he was too strong.

"Adrienne," he whispered seductively. "I have wanted to have a quiet moment with you for a long time."

Adrienne could only offer a faint smile. She feared that she would become ill if she opened her mouth.

With hooded eyes, Christian pressed a vile searing kiss to her unresponsive lips.

Stomach churning, Adrienne tried to keep the tears from springing to her eyes at the violation.

Christian took her glassy eyes as an emotional response to his romantic gesture. Kissing her forehead, he said, "I think I am falling in love with you Adrienne Beaux."

Shaking her head, Adrienne pulled his hands away from her face, "You don't even know me, Christian."

"Allow me," Christian exclaimed. "Allow me to get to know you better. Let me call upon you."

"Christian," Adrienne replied, her voice taking on a shrill tone. "I feel like this is all happening so fast."

"Adrienne, you are seventeen," Christian said, affronted by her snub. "Most women your age are already married."

_Well, I am not most women._

Before she could rebut, Christian added, "I will await your response. You do not have to answer right away."

"Thank you, Christian," Adrienne replied breathlessly as she watched him bow and withdraw into the house.

She knew her father would soon find out that she had rejected his golden boy. The backlash from the aforementioned insubordination would land her in an even darker abyss than the one in which she had already fallen.


	9. Propositions

Propositions

The cold night air did not bother the elated young woman as her dashing blond knight swept her up into his arms, twirling her around. She giggled jubilantly as his soft pink lips met hers. When they finally parted, Adrienne breathlessly declared, "How I've missed you!"

"I have missed you as well," Enjolras replied kissing her again. "Part of me worried that you would not be able to get away."

Adrienne gently stroked Enjolras' warm cheek, "I was almost unable," she said, her tone woeful. "Father has become increasingly vigilant. He is tirelessly seeking to betroth me to Christian."

She spat out Christian's name with disgust, her face contorted in a distressed frown.

Pulling her to him, Enjolras said, "I won't let that happen."

"I wish it were that simple," Adrienne lamented. "Papa made me go to the Lurondeux's ball and Christian made advances."

Enjolras stiffened, "Did he harm you?" he asked, hardness in his tone.

"No," Adrienne admitted. "He just made me uncomfortable." She hesitated before adding, "He asked if he could court me."

Swallowing hard, Enjolras asked, "What did you say?"

"I told him the truth…" Adrienne said. "…that I felt he was moving too fast and asking too much of me."

Enjolras did not say anything. He felt sickened at the prospect of Christian calling upon Adrienne…kissing her. Shivering at the notion, he said, "That will not be enough for a man like him."

Adrienne hung her head, "I know, but hopefully it will stall him for a while."

Enjolras did not seem convinced. Noticing this, Adrienne said, "Let's talk of happier things."

"Let's," Enjolras replied, trying to brighten for her sake.

"Why don't we talk about you?" Adrienne said. "I don't even know where you are from."

"Oh Adrienne," Enjolras said. "I am afraid that my life is rather uneventful…boring."

"Nothing about you is boring," Adrienne argued. "Please, indulge me."

"Very well," Enjolras grinned unable to deny her anything.

"I was born in Dreux. My father died before I was born in the Battle of Heilsberg and my mother remarried a wealthy merchant. We lived very comfortably, far removed from the impoverished. However, my stepfather, taught me at an early age to offer charity and kindness to the less fortunate. He always had a fresh blanket, bread, or a sous to spare for the poor wretches. It was from him that I realized my purpose in life was to change the status quo of France. When I learned that my biological father had been a revolutionary thinker as well, I felt further justified in my beliefs. When I turned eighteen, my mother and stepfather endowed me with enough money to live comfortably in order to attend the university. They write me often and I miss them, but once I graduate; I hope to stay in Paris."

"I'm glad to hear that," Adrienne said with a smile. "Your parents sound like wonderful people and they surely raised you well."

"They are," Enjolras confirmed. "Now, tell me more about yourself. That's what _I_ am interested in."

"Well," Adrienne began. "My mother died when I was ten, she came down with a catarrh that ravaged her body with fever and chills. She didn't last a week. Mathilde, the good woman that you met, took her place and cared for me as if I were her own daughter. I adore her. As for my father, we don't really see eye to eye. He has epic plans for my future that do not involve my consent. He really changed after my mother died. Before she passed, he was amicable and generous, but I think he sees too much of her in me and it distresses him. You would have liked my mother and she would have adored you."

Enjolras hugged her close, noting that her narration had prompted her to become melancholy.

"I am so sorry about your mother," he whispered, kissing the top of her head.

"Thank you, Julian," she replied resting her head against his chest.

They stayed like this for several minutes, enjoying the intimacy of the moment. Adrienne noted that Julian smelled of cologne and books, it comforted her in a way she had never felt. She could have easily fallen asleep in his strong arms, but she dared not. They could only afford a few stolen moments and she wanted to revel in the precious experience.

Thus, they continued to see each other each night until the winter had morphed into spring. The larks had begun to sing their melodic songs again and Paris burst with color. The Luxembourg Gardens had erupted in a fusion of pastel flowers and voluminous trees. Its many ponds sparkled in the warm afternoon sun as Adrienne and Julian strolled through the picturesque scene. Her father had loosened the reins on her captivity because he felt that she had proven to be quite the obedient daughter as of late. He knew nothing of her nocturnal meetings with Julian and it would stay that way. Mathilde was the only soul besides the young couple that knew of the indiscretion and it would continue if they proceeded with caution. They never ventured to the center of town or anyplace they suspected Christian or an acquaintance of her father's would frequent. Thus, they stuck to the church gardens or more secluded sections of the Luxembourg. They never kissed or held hands by the light of day, unless they discovered an anonymous alcove. Instead, they sought solace, merely, in each other's presence.

"I am so happy we are able to do this," Adrienne said. "I am so tired of sneaking around."

She nodded at Mathilde who was pretending to read a book on a far bench. Her goodly nanny never griped about accompanying her beloved "daughter" to the Luxembourg or any other designated place. She wanted Adrienne to experience love and would never take that right away from her. Thus, she smiled brightly at the young couple, urging them to take pleasure in their walk.

"I am too," Enjolras said with a grin. He seemed to be doing more of that lately.

"So," Adrienne said. "How are your studies coming?"

Enjolras sighed, "Our professors are becoming tired of our political banter. They even threw out one of the students, a particularly rowdy young man…I think his name was Courfeyrac."

"He was that bad?"

"No," Enjolras admitted with a chuckle. "His argument was valid and mild in comparison to ones in which I have engaged. However, I would not have utilized his colorful vocabulary."

Adrienne laughed, "What a character," she said with amusement.

They continued to banter genially until Adrienne noted that Mathilde looked anxious to leave. Opening her gold pocket watch, she noticed that it was nearly three."

"Gracious," she exclaimed. "Where did the time go?"

"You have obligations?" Enjolras asked reluctantly.

"Unfortunately," Adrienne said her tone regretful. "Father wanted me back at four."

"Well, you better not keep him waiting," Enjolras said. He looked warily around before placing a quick kiss on her cheek. "I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too," Adrienne replied, squeezing his hand. With one last longing gaze, she hurried over to Mathilde.

When she arrived home, she found her father, as usual, pacing in his study. She also found, to her abject horror, Christian.

"Christian," she gasped. "What are you doing here?"

"Adrienne," Pierre admonished. "Is that any way to speak to our guest?"

"My apologies," Adrienne muttered, her eyes downcast.

"Now," Pierre said, his tone returning to normal. "Monsieur Lurondeux has something that he wishes to discuss with you."

Pierre looked positively jubilant as he spoke these words. "I will leave you two to talk."

Adrienne felt panic seize her as her oblivious father shut the door behind him.

"I told you I would return," Christian said his typical self-satisfied smirk upon his face.

"I know," Adrienne replied. "And, you are a man of your word," she uttered these words in a sardonic tone, yet Christian did not pick up on the cue.

"What is your answer?" Christian asked, stepping closer to her.

"Christian," Adrienne said her voice quivering. "I don't really feel comfortable…"

Moving closer still, Christian said, "I am not a man who habitually waits for women to make decisions." His voice had taken on a cold, almost sinister edge.

"I don't know what you want me to say," Adrienne replied helplessly.

"I want you to agree to my proposal," Christian asserted, caressing her cheek.

Shrinking from his touch, Adrienne said, "My answer is no."

Christian's simpering expression contorted into one of unbridled hostility. "I think you better rethink that answer," he hissed.

"Christian, I do not care for you," Adrienne declared. "Why do relentlessly pursue me when you can have any woman in Paris?"

Christian roughly grabbed her jaw, "Because, I want _you_ my dear," he said, his enraged face inches from her own.

"Christian, please," Adrienne softly begged. "Don't pursue the matter any further…I…"

"We both know…" Christian interjected. "…that when your father discovers you have declined my offer; he will force you to reconsider."

Adrienne felt hot tears slide down her cheeks. Christian was absolutely right. Her father would never allow her to snub Christian. He would, ultimately, force her to apologize and accept his proposal.

"Fine," Adrienne whispered. "I will submit to your will, but know this Lieutenant…I will never love you!"

With that, she burst from the study, leaving Christian speechless behind her. She found Mathilde and collapsed sobbing in her outstretched arms.

"I hate him," she wept. "What a monstrous man!"

"I know, my child," Mathilde soothed. "But it will all work out."

"How?" Adrienne cried. "It is only a matter of time before I am forced to marry him."

"You don't know that," Mathilde said, but her uncertain tone betrayed her.

They both knew that once confronted with the proposition, Pierre would immediately offer his consent. One obsessed with power, never cared about the insipid things like love.

"I have to see Julian," Adrienne stated, wiping the tears from her face.

"Adrienne…I don't…"

"Please Mathilde," Adrienne pled. "I have to go."

Enjolras had given Adrienne his address approximately one month prior. He entrusted her with it, in the event that she needed to reach him before one of their meetings.

Mathilde escorted Adrienne out of the house once everyone had gone to sleep. They traveled in silence, only the cicadas and owls voicing their opinions in the night. When they finally reached the Rue D'Armande, the street where Enjolras' apartment was located, Adrienne said, "I'll be back soon, but I must go up alone."

Mathilde shook her head, "Adrienne…"

"It will be alright," Adrienne affirmed, gently touching her forearm. "I will return soon."

"If you are not back in two hours, I am coming to look for you," Mathilde vowed.

"Fine," Adrienne agreed.

Climbing up the rickety staircase, she took a deep breath to calm her nerves. When she reached number 5, she raised a trembling hand to knock on the rough wooden door.

"Who is it?" a gruff voice called from within.

_He must be busy with his studies._

She momentarily considered abandoning her mission for the sake of his privacy, but instead she said, "Julian, it is Adrienne."

Within seconds, the door was opened and she was ushered inside.

"Mon amour, what are you doing here?" he asked hugging her tightly.

The feeling of his strong arms around her brought a fresh round of tears to her eyes.

"Something terrible has happened," she sobbed.

"What is it?" Enjolras asked, distressed at her suffering.

"I am being forced to court Christian."

Enjolras' blue eyes narrowed in indignation, "Did Christian force this upon you?"

"Yes," Adrienne lamented. "He has my father eating out of the palm of his hand."

"I won't let them do this to you," Enjolras said taking a knee before her.

"It is no use," Adrienne said. "There is nothing that can be done once my father has made up his mind."

"Then I will speak to him," Enjolras declared.

"No Julian," Adrienne exclaimed. "You can't! That is far too dangerous."

"I am not afraid of your father," Enjolras said fiercely.

"He has very powerful friends, Julian." Adrienne said grasping his hands. "Please, for my sake. Do not cross him."

"What can I do to help," Enjolras said reluctantly acquiescing.

"Nothing," Adrienne said hanging her head. "I came to tell you that we can no longer see each other."

"What?" Enjolras asked, thinking that he must have misheard her.

"Oh Julian," Adrienne sobbed, embracing him tightly. "I am doing this for your sake. We cannot continue sneaking around. Christian has spies everywhere. We will be seen!"

"That's a risk I am willing to take," Enjolras said. "I will kill him if he tries to hurt you!"

"Julian, please!" Adrienne said her voice hoarse with emotion. "Don't make this harder than it has to be!"

"I thought you loved me."

"I do! This has nothing to do with love! I would run off with you in a heartbeat if I thought we could get away with it."

"Then let's!" Enjolras said, cupping her face in his hands.

"Julian…" Adrienne whimpered. "We can't…it's impossible."

"It's not," Enjolras said, before placing a searing kiss on her lips.


	10. A Night of Many Firsts

A Night of Many Firsts

Sensations and emotions whirled through Adrienne as she fell into Enjolras' arms. She felt his lips on hers, hot and insistent as his hands roamed and explored her clothed body. Her own hands got tangled in his silky blonde hair as she pulled him deeper into the kiss. She had never experienced such a primal animalistic need before, but tonight was a night of many firsts. She had openly defied her father by seeking out her lover and was now about to consummate that love, regardless of the religious covenants that it broke. They grasped at each other, desperate to feel the skin that their garments constricted. Enjolras made quick work of Adrienne's dress, remarkable given the frustratingly obscene amount of buttons. This left her in a whale bone corset and white silk stockings with blue ribbons. Loosening the stays, the corset fell free, falling to the floor in a heap beside the dress. A wave of embarrassment coursed through Adrienne as she became aware of her nakedness. She tried to cover up her plump breasts, but Enjolras' strong hands stopped her.

"Don't be shy, my love," he whispered his voice thick with desire. "You are perfect."

Placing a warm tender hand over the swell of her bosom, Enjolras' breath hitched. He had never touched a woman before, especially not this way. His heart pounded thunderously in his chest as he slightly squeezed the tender tissue. Capturing Adrienne's lips, he allowed his other hand to roam down her bare back, coming to a rest at her rounded buttocks. She was so soft, like satin. And, she was painfully innocent as was he in many ways.

He noted that she looked curiously down at his tented trousers, amazed at the response she had instigated. With a shy hesitation, she softly ghosted her hand over his swollen desire. Enjolras' hips instinctively bucked into her hand as she softly stroked him.

"Adrienne," he groaned, "Please…"

"Make love to me, Julian," Adrienne moaned, never ceasing the tango of their lips.

The couple continued to ravenously kiss until they reached the bed. For a moment, they broke the frenzied contact as Enjolras gently eased Adrienne onto the pillows. Hovering over her body, supported by his forearms, Enjolras said, "Are you sure about this?"

"Oui mon amour," Adrienne replied breathlessly, as she began to claw at his shirt desperate to feel his bare skin against hers. Without a moment's hesitation, Enjolras removed his unwanted garments, leaving himself bare and vulnerable.

Adrienne's breath caught at the sight before her. Enjolras' body was lean and muscular. Every nuance of his form seemed sculpted and perfected as if chiseled by an ancient Greek artisan. His wavy blonde hair hung in his face as he looked down at her. A passionate fire crackled in his blue eyes as he devoured her with the intensity of his gaze. With a gentle touch, he began to caress the fine patch of hair on Adrienne's womanhood, his eyes never leaving hers. Instinctively, Adrienne allowed her legs to open up to his caresses and Enjolras watched with rapture as Adrienne's lips parted and her back arched up off of the bed.

"Julian," she cried, frightened at first by the intensity of the feeling.

Soon though, she relaxed into his hand, allowing herself to float away with the sensation. Unable to control herself, she moaned, her fingers clutching the pillow as she reached her end.

"Mon dieu Julian," she said, gasping.

By this point, Enjolras was excruciatingly aroused. As he kissed her down from her high, he unconsciously ground his hardness against her, earning a moan from them both.

Wrapping her legs around his waist, she granted him access to her untouched vessel. She wanted nothing more, at that moment, than to become one with him.

"I'm ready," she whispered sensing that his desperation rivaled her own.

Placing himself at her entrance, Enjolras said, "If you need me to stop, just tell me."

Adrienne nodded, her heart beating in her ears.

Slowly, Enjolras began to push himself inside her. Squeezing his eyes shut, he gritted his teeth as the sensation overwhelmed him. Nothing could have prepared him for the feeling. A tingling warm had begun to spread throughout his body, lighting it afire. Adrienne's soft whimper, however, shook him from his reverie. Halting his movement, he noticed a single tear had escaped from her eye and begun to stream down her flushed cheek. Kissing it away, he said hoarsely, "Are you alright?"

"I'll be fine," she said. "Just keep going."

That was all the instruction he needed. Once he was buried to the hilt, he slowly pulled back and then pushed back in. Each time he thrust, he would see a burst of light from behind his closed eyes. Soon, the pleasure became unbearable and Enjolras buried his face into Adrienne's neck, inhaling her vanilla aroma. His hands gripped the bed sheets as a sweet agony began to seize him. His unadulterated moans were muffled by the pillow as he rode out his climax, slowly pulsing to cessation.

When he was able to speak again, he said, "I love you, Adrienne."

With a luminous smile Adrienne replied, "I love you too, Julian."

Pulling out of her, Enjolras rolled onto his side. He wrapped his arms around her, bringing her back flush to his chest. The two lovers lay like this, eventually falling asleep sated and happy; until a sharp knock at the door stirred them. Eyes growing accustomed to the dark, Adrienne shot out of bed like a cannon, realizing that she had promised Mathilde; she would return in two hours.

"What is it?" Julian asked his voice groggy.

"Adrienne!" a hysterical voice called from behind the door. "Come out here this instant!"

"I'm coming!" Adrienne called hastily trying to reassemble her wardrobe. Enjolras struggled to tie her stays but he had no experience with women's clothes; he had only just recently learned how to remove them. Finally, when she and Enjolras were both decent; Adrienne opened the door. Mathilde's eyes were wild when she took in her disheveled ingénue.

"What one earth?" she shrieked pulling Adrienne's arm. "I told you two hours! It's been four!"

"I am sorry, Mathilde," Adrienne said. "It won't happen again."

Mathilde cast Enjolras a withering look before dragging her charge into the night. For half of the journey, the elder woman was too angry to speak. Finally though, she stopped and said, "What were you thinking Adrienne?"

"I don't know what you mean," Adrienne said. "We were just talking."

But Mathilde knew her surrogate child too well to take that affirmation at face value. She knew what had transpired that night and it greatly troubled her. If she had harbored any hopes that Adrienne would break it off with the boy; they were dashed now.

"You know exactly what I mean!" Mathilde hissed. "What happens when you marry Christian? What happens when he discovers that you have already been deflowered?"

"It doesn't matter," Adrienne said, not maintaining her farce any longer. "I refuse to marry Christian. I am going away with Julian."

"You were supposed to end things with him! That is why we went!"

"I cannot keep myself from loving Julian! You of all people should know what it's like to be in love!"

Mathilde looked like Adrienne had just slapped her. "Do not throw Edward in my face like that!" she said, her expression hurt.

"I am sorry," Adrienne began. "But, Julian and I are destined to be together, just like you two were."

"And you see where that love has gotten me! Poor and bound to an ungrateful wretch!"

Adrienne staggered backwards. Realizing her coldness, Mathilde reached a hand out, "I didn't mean that Adrienne. I was just angry."

"I can take unkind words from father, Christian, even the Baron, but I cannot hear them from you too!"

"Adrienne, I am so sorry."

"Let's just go home. I am tired."

For days, Adrienne avoided Mathilde; she had nothing to say to her. At night, she continued to see Julian. They continued to find more intimate places to consummate their love and that love proved insatiable.

One such night, they were traipsing through the Luxembourg Gardens arm in arm. For a moment in time, they had not a care in the world. They were young and in love and the reality that society frowned upon them, meant nothing. Their lips found each other as they struggled for dominance. Finding a secluded spot beneath a large willow tree, they ravaged each other's bodies. Adrienne's hands wound themselves in Enjolras' blonde mane as she ravenously devoured her love's lips. He had a unique and wonderful taste, peppermint and vanilla. His smell intoxicated her and in this moment, she could not get close enough. Her body began to react to his caresses as Enjolras' hands became more incessant. Emboldened by his passion, he allowed them to wander down her back, resting on her round buttocks. Leaning against the tree, he felt his desire begin to swell and he could see by the look in Adrienne's forest eyes that she had noticed. Without hesitation, she pushed down on his shoulders, forcing him to sit with his back to the tree. She then, mounted him, feeling his desire brush against her clothed core. Since, their initial tryst, Adrienne had become more brazen during their lovemaking. She loved to do anything that brought her Julian pleasure. Nothing aroused her more than the look of pure desire on his handsome face when they made love. Leaning down to kiss him, Adrienne began to grind her hot core against Julian's desire. She watched with relish as his blonde eyelashes fluttered and he let out a small groan.

"Adrienne," he said his voice husky with need. "Please love."

Smiling, Adrienne pulled up her skirts, giving Julian access to her pantalets. With a swift tug, he had them down to her ankles, allowing her to quickly kick them away. In a seductively slow manner, she unbuttoned Enjolras' black trousers. With his help, she slipped them down enough to free his straining manhood. Enjolras could not contain a moan as Adrienne sank down on his throbbing flesh. He rested his head back on the rough bark of the tree as Adrienne slowly rode him into oblivion. His eyes rolled back as Adrienne performed a rather intricate pivot with her hips.

"Does it feel good, love?" Adrienne whispered, stroking his cheek.

"Ugh," was all Enjolras could articulate as his fingers grasped at the grass, digging into the earth.

"Tell me how it feels?"

"Adrienne," he panted. "You…are going…to be…the death…of me."

With a coquettish laugh, Adrienne picked up her pace, burying her face in Julian's shoulder to keep from moaning too loudly.

Adrienne felt her pleasure begin to mount, so she slowed her pace. She did not want the moment to end, not yet. She could tell by the look on Julian's face that he wouldn't last much longer. His breath was coming out in harsh pants and his face was contorted in a mask of agonized pleasure. She continued this torturous pace for what seemed like an eternity before Enjolras said, "Adrienne…I can't…hold on…"

"Let go Julian," Adrienne said, herself on the cusp of losing control.

Burying his face in her hair, Enjolras moaned out her name, his whole body shuddering violently as he emptied himself inside of her. She soon followed, biting his shoulder to keep from screaming, milking him empty. For a few moments, they just lay against each other, breast to breast, sweating and panting.

They continuously sought moments like these, whether it was in the Luxembourg gardens or up against a wall in a secluded alley. They desperately needed each other and their passion did not relent. On a particularly hot blooded night, as Enjolras took Adrienne up against a cobblestone wall, his back shielding her; the sound of drunken men's voices filled the air. Just as Enjolras reached the moment of no return, he recognized one garish voice in particular….so did Adrienne.

"Julian," she whispered, clutching him. "It's him!"

Quickly doing up his trousers, Enjolras led Adrienne down the dark passageway. Hiding in a niche, they waited for the drunken party, containing Christian, to pass. However, the degenerates hesitated in the alley's mouth, their slurred speech inundated with expletives.

"So when are you going to snatch up that little Beaux girl," a tall gangly guardsman asked in a high tenor voice.

Adrienne felt Enjolras tense up beside her, she met his gaze. Shaking her head, she grabbed his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"I am going to make my move soon," Christian slurred. "My father wants me to seal the deal soon. That won't be hard to do; her old man loves me. Adrienne has no choice but to become my dutiful little wife…I really just can't wait to fuck her."

"Untouched ass is the best," another soldier said this one hardly able to stand.

Enjolras had the dangerous look of a man who could easily kill if given the chance. Luckily, the entourage moved on before he could enact his retribution.

"We need to get away, tonight," Enjolras said, clutching her hands. "It's now or never."

"Julian," Adrienne said. "You know I want to, but it's too dangerous!"

"Please mon amour," Enjolras begged. "I can't bear the thought of losing you. Must our love be condemned to a few blissful minutes against a wall?"

Tears welled in Adrienne's eyes, "You are right." Adrienne sniffled. "We must go."

Hurriedly, they rushed to the illuminated opening of the alley. Just as they were about to venture back to Enjolras' apartment, a voice stopped them cold.

"Well, well, well," a chilling baritone timbre mused. "Haven't you been a naughty girl, Adrienne?"

The two lovers turned slowly to find Baron Lurondeux standing majestically before them in an onyx cape, his lips twisted in a sickening sneer.

He had to be a figment of her guilty conscience, a manifestation of her fears. What business would the Baron have on a back street in the poor district? Most likely visiting one of his whores? Like father, like son; the two despicable creatures shared every maladaptive trait. Taking a deep breath, Adrienne tried to keep her head held high, "Monsieur Enjolras was just escorting me back home. We were studying."

She tried to hide the fear from her voice, but the quaking of her body betrayed her. Julian stood like an unmoving sentinel behind her, silently protective.

"Oh?" Baron Lurondeux said, raising a graying eyebrow. "Does your father know that you are out so late?"

"Of course," Adrienne replied. "I go nowhere without my father's permission."

"I see," the Baron said unconvinced. The sneer seemed permanently etched into his gaunt face as he continued, "Funny, I did not peg your father as a man who would allow his only child to meander through the slums of Paris with a ruffian."

Adrienne clenched her teeth, "Well, it seems that you were mistaken in your judgment of his character.

"Indeed," the Baron said. "I just pray that nobody gets the wrong idea about your sense of morality, Mademoiselle Beaux."

Turning his gaze to Enjolras, he said, "Maybe, you should divert your attention to women who reside within your own class."

Eyes narrowing, Enjolras said, "I can handle my own affairs, thanks."

"Very well," the Baron said, clapping his hands amicably. "Have a wonderful evening."

With a wink, he turned on his shiny black heel and walked out of sight.

Collapsing into Enjolras' arms, Adrienne said, "It's over. We have nothing left, now!"

"We are getting away, tonight," Enjolras reaffirmed.

"No Julian," Adrienne said caressing his cheek. "Now that the Baron knows, going away is far too dangerous."

"_Staying _is far too dangerous," Enjolras argued.

"I am not willing to risk your life," Adrienne cried. "I love you too much. Please, just go…"

"…Adrienne," Julian whispered cupping her face in his hands. Wiping away her tears with his thumbs, he said, "Don't make this decision for me."

"I have to," Adrienne said, tearing away from his embrace. "Maybe, there is a way I can talk some sense into father."

Enjolras knew that she, truly, did not believe her own words; she was just trying to provide him with some hope.

"Perhaps, he will understand the depth of our love and accept our covenant, but until then…we have to stop this. I should have ended things before; when I came to your apartment that night. I was just too much of a coward…" her voice was choked off by sobs.

Enjolras tried to embrace her, but Adrienne backed away. "Goodbye Julian," she said, kissing his cheek.

Before he could respond, she ran off, disappearing quickly into the night.

"Adrienne!" Enjolras shouted. "Adrienne!"


	11. The Ultimatum

The Ultimatum

Clammy palms, racing heart, shortness of breath, all of these symptoms plagued the anxiety-ridden teenager. Once again, she sat in her father's stuffy study, watching him pace to and fro. Unlike the last time, when Christian had visited, he did not appear amicable. Instead, his veins popped dangerously from his temples. His round face had turned the color of a beet and his eyes seemed to bulge precariously out of their deeply set sockets. When he finally spoke, his voice came out in a thundering roar, "I thought I told you to never see him again!"

Adrienne cowered as he loomed over her, large and imposing. With his ringed hand, he struck her across the left cheek. Light burst from behind her eyes, as the pain exploded. She barely had time to assess the damage before he struck her again, this time, on the mouth. Her upper lip burst upon, spilling crimson upon her white gown. Covering the wound, she fell from the chair and began crawling towards the door, but despite his portly build, Pierre captured her with surprising agility.

Forcing her to look at him, he snarled, "You have brought disgrace upon this family's name!"

"I didn't do anything wrong, papa!" Adrienne sobbed, clutching his pant leg. "Please, calm down."

"You have been seeing that boy! Don't deny it! Baron Lurondeux told me himself!"

Adrienne felt like retching. Falling into a heap on the floor, she uncontrollably wept; until Pierre pulled her up by the hair.

"You will remedy this dishonor," his hissed, his blotchy face inches from hers.

"What am I to do?" Adrienne gasped, hyperventilating.

"Christian Lurondeux is coming to ask for your hand in marriage, tonight."

"No!" Adrienne screamed. She clutched her father's hands, "I'll do anything! Just don't make me marry him! I can't marry him! I don't love him!"

Pushing her roughly aside, Pierre stood to his full height. "You have no choice. You will marry him or…"

"Papa, let me marry Julian," Adrienne interjected. "Please! We will go away. You will never have to see us again!"

Pierre slapped her, "Have you gone completely mad? You will marry Christian or I will have that boy killed."

Adrienne recoiled; she had feared that this situation would arise. Her father was a dangerous man as was the Baron. They would do anything in their power to rid the world of entanglements. "You would kill an innocent man?"

"No one would miss him. He's just an insignificant radical like all the others."

"Papa…"

"…No! Stop your groveling! You will accept Christian's proposal or you will watch as your lover is ripped apart before your eyes."

Adrienne cried out hysterically despite Pierre's vain attempts to stifle her. Eventually, her agony consumed her and she slumped to the floor in a dead faint.

Hours later, she came to with Mathilde hovering over her. Concern clouded the older woman's eyes as she applied a cool washcloth to Adrienne's perspiring forehead. Even though the two women had not spoken in weeks, the current situation had prompted immediate reconciliation.

"How are you feeling, my child?" Mathilde quietly asked.

"Please tell me that I was only dreaming. Please do not tell me that the Lurondeux's are coming tonight," Adrienne blurted her voice choked with emotion.

Mathilde lowered her omniscient gaze, "I am afraid, they are attending tonight's supper."

Adrienne wailed, turning her head into the pillow. She felt Mathilde's tender hands rubbing her back but it did not provide her with any comfort.

"Christian's proposing tonight," Adrienne lamented, her voice muffled by the fabric.

"I heard," Mathilde admitted solemnly. "It is a great injustice."

Turning her large green eyes upon her maternal guardian, Adrienne implored, "What am I to do?"

"There is nothing you can do," Mathilde admitted, her tone sympathetic. Stroking Adrienne's long dark hair, she continued, "In time, the pain will pass…you will forget him."

Adrienne shot out of Mathilde's arms, "I could never forget Julian," she gasped. "He means everything to me!"

"Oh Adrienne…" Mathilde soothed. "…you have to, or else you will drive yourself mad. Just remember, you hold his life in your hands."

Adrienne could never forget that. That had been the sole reason she had not agreed to Julian's offer. Eloping would have surely condemned him to an early demise and her to the same marriage she now faced. Baron Lurondeux would never allow a mere student to upstage his perfect son.

That perfect son was smiling down at her only a few hours later. His yellowed teeth repulsed her even more given the circumstances. He had escorted her to a quiet part of the garden, located in the front lawn of the Beaux chateau. A large bubbling fountain provided the only distraction and Adrienne stared at it, allowing herself to become captivated by the shimmering ripples. Noting her disconnect, Christian said, "I have known you for a very long time, Adrienne."

Forcing a smile, Adrienne turned her gaze upon him and said, "I know."

"It is only fitting that we should marry."

Adrienne's stomach tightened and her skin prickled with gooseflesh.

"I apologize for how I reacted when last we met. I was rash and rude and I did not mean to threaten you."

"I forgive you," Adrienne replied, allowing her gaze to drift back to the mesmerizing fountain.

She heard Christian shift beside her and realized he had vacated his position on the bench beside her. Now, he knelt before her, producing a black velvet box from his coat pocket. Adrienne watched with trepidation as he opened the hinged lid. Within, rested a glittering sapphire, the most beautiful she had ever seen. Still, she could not allow herself to appreciate the jewel's iridescent beauty for to covet the gem, she had to sell her soul to Christian. Gulping, she waited as Christian slipped the sacrilegious symbol upon her finger. This marriage would never earn the blessing of God. Love did not embody this relationship and Adrienne could only nod with glassy eyes as Christian said the words:

"Will you marry me?"

Preparations for the wedding went down without a hitch and after enduring endless mundane conversations with Christian's dolt of a mother and fittings for a multi-million franc dress; Adrienne's personal apocalypse had approached.

The night before, she could not sleep. Every emotion except for excitement swirled through her like a hurricane. Her mind whirred with a million different options, none of which proved plausible. She had to go through with the ceremony for Julian's sake. She rose from bed the next morning with dark circles ringing her bloodshot green eyes. Her cheek still bore a faint purple bruise, courtesy of her abusive father. Her busted lip had completely healed but she still looked horrific. Mathilde fussed through ways to ready her ingénue. All of the most important Parisian aristocrats would attend "the wedding of a century." What would they say if the bride flowed down the aisle, looking anything but angelic? Thus, Mathilde applied a generous layer of powder upon Adrienne's pale face, transforming the battle scars into a mere memory. Pierre had purchased a beautiful gown for his wayward daughter to wear and Mathilde smoothed it over Adrienne's trembling form. The lace went all the way up to her neck as if to ironically accentuate her modesty. Its train extended nearly two yards behind her, sparkling with diamonds. As usual, Mathilde wove Adrienne's hair into a stylish and sophisticated updo, allowing her wavy bangs to swoop sideways along her forehead. Finally, she placed a diamond tiara, with a sheer veil attached to it, upon her crown.

"Look at you," Mathilde said, tears coming to her eyes. "You look…"

"Don't Mathilde," Adrienne said, refusing to look at herself in the mirror. "I don't want to be beautiful today. Not if I have to marry a man that I loathe more than the Devil."

Mathilde was silent as she led Adrienne out to the carriage; that waited to bring her to her the church.

Pierre Beaux was already inside the plush coach, puffed up with ego and self-righteousness.

"Are you ready?" he asked ecstatically.

Adrienne refused to look at him; she feared that if she saw the self-satisfied "Christian" smirk on his face that she would slap him. Gritting her teeth, she silently endured her father's cheerful banter as she stared down at her feet. She wished more than anything that Mathilde could have accompanied her. However, just a lowly servant, Mathilde had not been invited to the nuptials.

Before they arrived at the church, Adrienne had to ask her father just one thing.

"How did you get Christian to assent to the marriage so quickly? Does he know anything?"

Startled by Adrienne's apparent ability to speak, Pierre said, "Christian was more than willing to submit to the marriage. His father told him of your irrevocable feelings for him and he consented at once. As for your impropriety; no one will ever know."

Pierre addressed the latter question in a low threatening tone.

Just then, the carriage came to a jolting halt before the magnificent cathedral. As soon as Adrienne stepped out of the chariot, she felt her knees buckle. Nausea overcame her and she feared that she would either faint or become ill. She did neither; instead, she steeled herself and waited at the massive mahogany doors. When the orchestra's symphonic din swelled dramatically, Adrienne took a deep breath and began her descent into her own personal hell.

Julian was on his way to the cafe Musain when he heard a cacophony of jubilant cries coming from the cathedral. Normally, he would have ignored such revelry, but today, he did not feel like engaging in political banter. When he saw the source of the melee, his heart sank. His love, his Adrienne was descending the church's stone steps in an extravagant wedding gown, arm in arm with Christian Lurondeux. He wanted to wretch at the sight before him, but he could only stare, open mouthed and horrified. The desire to knock Christian away and seize her whirred through his mind, but it proved fleeting. He could not put Adrienne in danger. He had to accept her decision. Never again would he attempt to contact her and his heart would never feel the same.

Downcast, he slunk into the café and ordered a bottle of wine. Combeferre looked across at his friend with concern. Never had he seen his ami so distraught. For a moment, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. Were those tears in Enjolras' eyes?

"Julian?" he began carefully. "What happened?"

Enjolras did not say anything for a while; he merely downed his goblet full of wine before pouring another. Combeferre thought perhaps he had not heard him; when Enjolras finally said, "Adrienne married Christian Lurondeux, today."

Combeferre's face fell, "I don't understand…I thought…"

"We were caught together about a month ago by Christian's father…" Enjolras said, his voice wavering with emotion. Tipping his head back, he swigged some more wine.

"What? Is the old man blackmailing her? Forcing her into the marriage?"

"I don't know," Enjolras admitted, running his fingers through his wavy blonde hair. "Maybe…or maybe, she just wants a more stable life."

"No way," Combeferre asserted, shaking his head. "She loves you. She would never forsake you for a man she hates! There has got to be a reason."

"I don't know…she refused to run away with me. When we were caught, I feared something like this would happen and I begged her to leave Paris with me. She refused…"

"There has to be a reason, Julian," Combeferre insisted. "Adrienne's not fickle. She would never, intentionally, hurt you. You just have to let…"

Combeferre did not want to finish his statement. How could he tell his best friend to "let go" of the first and only woman he had ever loved. He watched with a pitying face as his friend drowned his sorrows, allowing himself to lose control for the first time.

Adrienne wished she could drown her sorrows, but instead she had to submit herself to Christian's naked form. She trembled violently as he entered her in one swift motion with no regard for her "virgin" state at all. Staring up at the whitewashed ceiling, she tried to drown out Christian's pants and groans as he labored above her. Her mind kept drifting to Julian and the thoughts brought tears to her eyes. Thankfully, Christian did not seem to notice as he continued to drive himself into her unresponsive body. When he finally finished, aspirating in ecstasy, he gave her a brief kiss before rolling over and falling asleep. Once his snores filled the cavernous bedchamber, Adrienne slipped out of the bed and withdrew into the washroom. She vomited copiously into the chamber pot until nothing remained but her roiling emotions. Hot tears stung her cheeks as her breath came out in heaving pants. Eventually, she cried herself to sleep, her cheek resting against the cool stone floor.

It seemed like mere minutes before a male timbre roused her from her fitful slumber.

"What are you doing in here?" Christian asked, confusion marring his face.

With great effort, Adrienne lifted her head up and noted that light streamed through the washroom's open shuttered window. She must have slept longer that she had thought.

Rubbing her eyes, Adrienne said, "I didn't feel well. Perhaps it was the wine?"

Christian looked upon his new wife's disheveled state and the bile staining the chamber pot with disgust. "Are you well now? Do you have a fever?"

"No," Adrienne admitted. "I feel fine."

"Well," Christian said, helping her up. "Get dressed. We have an important breakfast to attend. The Baron de Poluement and his wife want to celebrate our nuptials. They were most regretful that they could not attend the wedding."

And thus began Adrienne's position as the dutiful wife to a vile and morally reprehensible man.


	12. An Entangled Web

An Entangled Web

It did not take long, only a few weeks, before Christian grew bored with his new plaything. By plaything one would deduce some inanimate novelty had grown tiresome to his simplistic mind. On the contrary, like a typical aristocrat, he saw a flesh and blood being as an object that he could own. His marriage to Adrienne had proven to cause more aggravation than satisfaction. She did not respond to his romantic advances, she never engaged in conversation, she barely even made eye contact. When she did, her green eyes had a haunted absent look. He now knew, without a doubt, that she did not love him. Why had he deluded himself into believing the fallacy? In his mind, he had painted a completely different portrait of their marriage: Adrienne as a dutiful and pleasant wife who succumbed to his every whim and desire. Was that not what God placed women on the earth to do…to please men? Instead, all of his hopes about Adrienne seemed naïve and childish. How could he have allowed himself to engage in such ridiculous thoughts? Why had he believed his father's lies about Adrienne's apparent love for him? He was not accustomed to women snubbing his advances. His handsome face and smooth baritenor timbre, normally, made the ladies swoon into his eagerly awaiting arms. But Adrienne, she was an anomaly, a frustratingly beautiful enigma.

Just then, Claudette, one of Adrienne's maidservants entered the dining room where he partook in his morning paper and coffee. Barely literate, it served as more of a prop purpose than actual entertainment. He liked to maintain the façade of an educated aristocrat.

"Monsieur Lurondeux?" Claudette said in her shrill soprano voice.

"Yes?" Christian said, not looking up from the blurred French words printed upon the gazette's front page.

"Madame says that she cannot attend breakfast this morning."

Abruptly setting down his coffee cup with a clank, Christian glared up at Claudette, "Why on earth not?"

_This has been the third time this week._

"She says that she doesn't feel well."

What she did not tell her master was that his wife had been retching every morning for days. Most women would leap to reveal such exciting news, but Madame Adrienne had barricaded herself away, refusing to see her husband. Claudette had a nagging suspicion that her mistress harbored a dark secret, but she tried to shake the feeling. It did not help that her older sister, Angelique, detested the master's new wife. Nothing in the latter woman's personality offended her sensibilities; merely her presence thwarted any of Angelique's plans to seduce the roguish lieutenant. Before Adrienne had come along, Christian had engaged in various trysts with the coquettish, Angelique. He had treated her like all of his women, disposable and inconsequential. He had tired of her around the time that he began to pursue Adrienne more voraciously. Thus, Angelique resented Adrienne tremendously and refused to accept the position as her handmaiden; this left naïve little Claudette for the duty. At thirteen, Claudette solely sought to please those around her, especially her beloved sister. Through the acceptance of the duty, Claudette found that she liked Adrienne very much. Even though her sister probed her for condemning information, Claudette felt obliged to protect her mistresses' secret. This had caused a friction in the sisters' relationship for Angelique could sense that Claudette held back on her gossip.

She watched with trepidation as Christian pondered her statement.

"Very well," he spat, waving a dismissive hand. "I guess I am married to a ghost."

Turning on her heel, Claudette scurried back up the stairs to Adrienne and Christian's bedchamber.

She slipped into the darkened room and nodded at Mathilde, who was sitting by Adrienne's side, holding her hand.

"What did he say?" she mouthed.

"He's very angry," she mouthed in return.

Mathilde rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "Mon Cherie," she whispered to Adrienne. "Your husband is becoming upset. Maybe you can go downstairs, just for a little while…maintain appearances. You do not want him to grow suspicious."

"I don't care anymore," Adrienne moaned. "Let him divorce me. I am going to be out on the street when he finds out about the baby anyway."

"Hush," Mathilde admonished. "Don't talk like that."

Claudette could not understand for the life of her, why Christian would banish his wife for having a baby? Did he hate children so much?

"Please Madame," Claudette implored, in her meek voice. "Mathilde is right. You will be able to hide your pregnancy for a little while. But…if may be so bold…why are you?"

Mathilde looked down, her eyes darkening. Adrienne lifted herself up by the elbows and looked over at her young servant with an agonized expression.

"Have you ever been in love, Claudette?" she asked her usually melodic, voice raspy.

Claudette shook her head and looked down at her feet, "No, Madame."

"Well, I have…and sometimes we cannot be with the people we love. Sometimes we have to make decisions that tear us apart," Adrienne's voice came out in a choked whisper as her evergreen eyes filled with tears.

Mathilde's agony mirrored that of Adrienne's as if she too shared the same pain. She looked up at Claudette and forced a weak smile, "Do you understand child?"

Shaking her head, Claudette said, "No, I am afraid, I do not."

Taking a breath, Adrienne said, "What I tell you cannot leave this room…"

"Adrienne," Mathilde interjected, placing a hand on her charge's shoulder. "I don't think…"

"It is alright, Mathilde," Adrienne said, patting her friend's hand. "I trust her."

Redirecting her gaze, she motioned for Claudette to come closer.

When the young girl had situated herself at the bed's edge, Adrienne continued, "This child…is not my husband's."

Claudette could not help the shock that appeared on her pale face. Her brown eyes widened and her rosy lips contorted into an "o" of astonishment. Mathilde stiffened at the reaction and looked concernedly at Adrienne. Adrienne, noticing, grasped Claudette's calloused hands. "Listen to me, Claudette," she emphatically whispered. "I did not break my marriage vows. My conscience is clean, but I was forced to marry Christian after I had…after I had already given myself to another man."

"Why can't you be with him?" Claudette asked innocently, her heart breaking for Adrienne.

"My father and Christian's would never allow it…my Julian…he is so very different from them."

Adrienne's voice trailed off and she buried her face in her bony hands.

Claudette couldn't stop herself. She, impulsively, wrapped her small arms around Adrienne's quaking body. For a few moments, Adrienne just limply sat there, weeping. After she regained her composure, she said, "I will go to him, but I don't know how much longer I can maintain pretenses."

"Eventually, you will have to tell him, my dear," Mathilde said, stroking Adrienne's tangled brown tresses.

"I know," Adrienne replied solemnly. "I just need more time."

"You know it is possible that Christian is the father," Mathilde declared. "Sometimes, these symptoms appear early. Maybe our calculations were…"

"It's not possible, Mathilde. The best that we can hope for is that Christian is not astute enough to do the math."

With that, Adrienne forced herself up from the bed. Claudette and Mathilde busied themselves with dressing and primping their beloved friend and mistress. They wove her frazzled waves into its usual intricate bun and applied some powder on her gaunt cheeks. Thankfully, at two months, Adrienne did not bear any sign of her premarital tryst. Her gowns still fit perfectly and her lean frame did not seem compatible with sustaining another life. Since her marriage, she had grown so depressed that sustenance was the last thing on her mind. Then, once the symptoms of her pregnancy had surfaced, the nausea had suppressed her appetite all the more. She wanted nothing more than to flee to Julian's side and beg for his forgiveness at her abandonment. At night, she dreamed of his strong arms enveloping her and his soft lips kissing her swollen abdomen. Forcing herself from the tumultuous reverie, Adrienne followed her two companions down the stairs and into the titanic dining area. Christian was just finishing up when his wife entered.

"Adrienne, my dear," he exclaimed with surprise. "I thought that you were not feeling well?"

"I am not," Adrienne affirmed. "But I should eat something."

Christian looked over at Mathilde and Claudette, "Why don't you two go get Madame Lurondeux something from the kitchen?"

He always spoke to the servants in a condescending tone that further accentuated his narcissistic nature. Mathilde had not grown accustomed to the flippant disrespect that her master bestowed upon those "below" his class and it bothered her greatly. Gritting her teeth, to keep from speaking out of turn; she disappeared into the kitchen with young Claudette tight on her heels.

"Well…" Christian said, turning his attention to Adrienne. "…I must admit, it's a pleasure to see you again, wife."

"Don't tease me, Christian," Adrienne chastised. "I have been ill."

She could not stand Christian under normal circumstances, but her malaise-ridden countenance prompted her to abhor him even more. She was about to say something else; when Claudette returned with a baguette and a bit of sliced apricot. Mathilde had, most likely, returned to her wing of the house, in order to suppress herself from slapping the master. Claudette had grown accustomed to Christian's self-important personality over the years; so it did not even faze her.

After Claudette had left the room, Christian sidled up beside Adrienne, relocating from his position at the head of the table to the chair next to her. Leaning closer still, he whispered into her ear, "When are you going to resume your wifely duties?"

Adrienne pushed him away, "Is that all you think about?" she inquired her tone cold.

"I _am_ a man," Christian stated as if that pardoned him from his tactless perversions.

"Well, _I_ am a woman who does not feel well and I would appreciate it if you treated me with some respect and compassion."

Christian bristled at the verbal berating. He was unfamiliar with receiving such chastisement from a woman. "I won't disturb you any longer," he said crisply as he abruptly stood. "I am leaving for training anyway. I won't be back until next Monday."

"Have a good trip," Adrienne said coldly, turning her head when he tried to kiss her.

His lip curling with a snarl, Christian stormed from the room, allowing the double doors to slam behind him.

Staring down at her plate, Adrienne felt an overwhelming wave of nausea swell within her. The precious life she had created with Julian never failed to remind her of its presence and she had to race out of the kitchen's side door to prevent her stomach from upturning upon the oaken floor.

Meanwhile, at the café, Enjolras stared unwaveringly at his unfinished manuscript. Upon the brown parchment, his eloquent French dictation proclaimed various ideas for a New Republic. Blonde stubble coated his cheeks and chin and dark rings rimmed his blue eyes. The azure irises looked all the more vivid due to the inflamed vessels surrounding them, due to lack of sleep. Enjolras would awaken every night, many times, with nightmares. All of them involving Adrienne. He worried excessively for her well-being. How was that oaf of a guardsman treating her? Did he hurt her, yell at her? All of these fears culminated into an overwhelming need to see and protect her. Thus, the vicious cycle of rumination never ceased.

"Julian?"

Enjolras looked up and noted his friend Combeferre gazing upon him with concern.

"What?" he replied in a disgruntled tone; a tone he seemed to express frequently as of late.

"You've been working on that paper since yesterday. Why don't you take a break? Have some breakfast?"

"I am not hungry," Enjolras said, turning back to his dictations.

"Enjolras, this is not healthy," Combeferre said his tone louder than normal. He sat down across from his friend and continued, "You haven't slept in days! You look like you might fall over at any moment!"

"I'M FINE!" Enjolras yelled, slamming his fist upon the table.

Several of the patrons turned to stare at the, normally, mild-mannered young man. Their jaws slack with shock.

"Yes," Combeferre said dryly. "I can see that."

Chagrined, Enjolras resumed his fevered scribbling, refusing to meet his best friend's eyes.

Finally, Combeferre stood with a sigh and dropped a few sous on the table. He bestowed enough gratuities to cover both his and Enjolras' bill but the latter ami did not notice the favor. With a sad shake of his head, Combeferre withdrew from the rowdy café and stepped out into the warm Parisian April. He saw a group of men speaking in emphatic whispers by the winery. Their gesticulations of ardor deemed their conversation as one of import. Thus, Combeferre covertly sought out the cover of a dilapidated awning near the small crowd. He could barely make out their argot phrases but he soon deduced that they were discussing an impending coup.

"They says the King is gonna get it," a tall reedy man with sunken cheeks said, wagging his finger.

"I hears they wanna replace'em with another king," a portly bald man added, his face flushed with the excitement of political conspiracy.

Combeferre's heart soared. For as involved as he and Enjolras were in politics; they had been wholly out of the loop lately. Enjolras merely visited the café to escape the drear of his apartment. He never spoke to anyone; he barely spoke to him. His entire life revolved around penning a plan for France's future. He wanted to, single handedly; lead his beloved Patria to a brighter future. His fervent dedication to his own plans had caused him to turn a deaf ear to idle banter. Now, perhaps, his friend would have something tangible to distract him from his brooding.

"Vive la Republique," Combeferre whispered to himself.

It was about time.


	13. Desperation

Desperation

_Two and a half months later_

"Christian is away and I am in desperate need of some fresh air," Adrienne declared as she perfected her coif in the mirror.

"Where would you like to go?" Mathilde asked with cheer. It felt good to see Adrienne well enough to venture outside her prison.

"Not anywhere conspicuous. I don't want to risk…"

"We won't go to the Luxembourg. Why don't we go to the Cherbourg Gardens, instead?"

"Alright," Adrienne said with a smile.

It felt wonderful to have the sun shine upon her vitamin D deprived cheeks. Adrienne could almost sense the life-giving rays soaking into her ravenous pores. A slight breeze kept the day from growing too humid, keeping the temperature at a perfect seventy-five degrees. Birds chirped in the lush green treetops, which matched the color of Adrienne's eyes. Not a cloud marred the vast blue sky and the air smelled of flowers and life. For the first time in weeks, Adrienne felt at peace, but the tranquility did not last long.

At the end of the curving path that she and Mathilde strolled, sat a bench. Upon that bench sat a brooding Julian Enjolras. At first, he did not notice her and she took that opportunity to abruptly turn. Mathilde followed her Adrienne's lead; when she noted the reason for the sudden change in trajectory. Unfortunately for the duo, Enjolras had caught a glimpse of Mathilde before she had pivoted and had subsequently deduced Adrienne's presence through process of elimination.

Heart beating frantically, Adrienne picked up her pace as she heard Julian's charging footsteps behind her. She dared not run. She could not risk drawing attention to herself. Enjolras' pursuit had already piqued the interest of a few, but when they saw that he posed no threat; they resumed their various activities.

Adrienne's heart nearly burst through her chest when she felt Enjolras' hand enclose around her forearm.

Halting, she turned to look upon her beloved with glassy eyes. Enjolras' own sapphire pools mirrored her suffering and she noted that he looked unwell. His cheeks had a hollowed gaunt appearance and dark circles contoured his large eyes. He looked completely dejected and unhinged …all because of her betrayal.

"Adrienne," he said his voice gravelly.

"Julian," Adrienne gasped, her voice higher pitched than normal.

"I hate to interrupt," Mathilde said. "But perhaps we should relocate to somewhere more private?"

"That won't be necessary," Adrienne said, trying to recover. "We really need to be going..."

Enjolras' face fell, "Adrienne please…" he whispered. "…can we just talk for a minute?"

The desperation in his tone and the haunted agonized look on his handsome face made Adrienne fold. She allowed him to lead her to the anonymity of a shaded willow tree.

"How have you been?" he asked.

Adrienne averted her gaze; she could not stand the intensity of his emotion. She wanted to collapse into his arms and weep, but instead, she said, "Well, and you?"

She immediately regretted her flippant response; Julian looked flabbergasted at her aloofness.

"Well," he said, anger tainting his tone. "That makes one of us! I have been miserable. You want me to count the ways?"

"No," Adrienne mouthed inaudibly, unable to make eye-contact.

"First," he began. "The love of my life refuses to run away with me."

"Julian," Adrienne interjected, tears welling up in her green eyes.

"Second," Enjolras said, ignoring her. "I watched as the woman I love left a church with…" his voice broke with emotion and he couldn't continue.

"You saw?" Adrienne gasped. "Mon Dieu."

Her knees buckled beneath her, but Enjolras managed to swiftly catch her before she hit the ground.

The close proximity made them both breathless; Enjolras forgot his anger for a moment and stared, longingly, into Adrienne's eyes. He longed to kiss her soft pink lips, but he dared not risk it…for her sake. As he eased her into a sitting position, his hand made contact with her swollen abdomen.

His breath caught in his throat as he felt Adrienne's hand enclose over his. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she introduced him to his child for the first time.

Awestruck, Enjolras whispered "You're…" He could not believe the serendipity of the moment.

Feeling his warm hand upon their child; made Adrienne's heart burst with unbridled longing.

"Yes," she confirmed.

"Is it?"

Burying her face into his shirt, Adrienne said, "It's yours Julian. I calculated it and there is no way Christian can possibly be the father. I started feeling ill the night of the wedding…"

Her honest answer made Enjolras' stomach drop. Of course she had given herself to Christian. How could she have avoided it? Still, the harsh reality of her unintended betrayal struck him harder than he had expected.

Taking a deep breath, he said, "What did Christian say?"

Shaking her head, Adrienne said, "I haven't told him. I've been too frightened."

She enveloped him in an embrace, but Enjolras' arms were much too loose about her. He did not seek to draw her closer for intimacy. Instead, his eyes looked vacant and horrified, his hands falling limply to his side.

It seemed like an eternity before he was able to speak. When he, finally, did, Adrienne wanted to melt into the earth and disappear. The anger and anguish that he hurled her way felt like a thousand daggers piercing through her arrhythmic heart.

"You were never going to tell me, either? WERE YOU?" he demanded, his sapphire eyes red with tears.

"It wouldn't have made a difference," Adrienne cried. "We cannot be together!"

"WHY? I WANT TO KNOW!"

"Julian, you have to calm down," Adrienne whispered, attempting to assuage him. "You're going to draw attention to us!"

"I don't care," he hissed. "What? Was it too embarrassing for you to be associated with me? How does it feel to marry for MONEY?"

Adrienne slapped him with as much strength as she could muster.

"How dare you!" she exclaimed. "Not a day goes by that I do not think about you. I love you more than my own life. That is why I married Christian."

Mollified and chagrined by his outburst, Enjolras said, "You married him, why; because his father threatened to kill me? I don't care Adrienne! I want to marry you! I want to spend the rest of my life with _you_!"

Cupping her face in his hands, he continued, "I am willingly to go anywhere to keep you safe. If that means leaving France, I would do it in a heartbeat."

Shaking her head, Adrienne said, "We can't. It's not that simple…"

"It is that simple. We're going to have a baby! What do you think Christian is going to do to you when he finds out?"

"I don't know," Adrienne wailed, the reality of her situation crashing down around her. Leaning back against the tree, she began to sob.

For a while, Enjolras could only stare at her weeping form. A combination of shock and rage disabled him from consoling her. Eventually though, her heartbreaking cries shattered his stony exterior and he sat down next to her, cradling her to his chest.

"Why couldn't they just let us be?" Adrienne lamented. "We weren't hurting anyone."

"Shh," Enjolras soothed, kissing the top of her head. "We can still make this work." Stroking her hair, he continued, "Come with me. Please…we'll hide away in my apartment tonight and then we'll leave at dawn."

Shaking her head, Adrienne continued to cry. "I can't risk your life! Why can't you understand that?"

"You are not risking my life. Adrienne, don't you think I can take care of us?"

"It's not a matter of your strength, Julian," Adrienne implored. "You are not invincible and the Lurondeux's have many powerful friends!"

"We are not staying in France…"

"…they have allegiances in the whole of Europe."

"Then we'll go to America."

Adrienne laughed humorlessly, "Sure, that's entirely probable."

"Why not, I have money. We can board a ship tomorrow. No one would ever know."

A pregnant silence descended upon the young couple until Adrienne said in a meek tone, "Do you really think we could make it?"

"Absolutely," Enjolras affirmed, wiping her tears away with the pad of his thumb. "Just come with me." He grasped her hands and begged "Don't go back to him."

"Adrienne," Mathilde whispered, tears in her eyes.

The lovers had not heard the matronly woman approach during their impassioned dialogue.

"Don't go with him," Mathilde continued her voice barely audible.

"Why would you tell her that?" Enjolras asked his voice muted with horror.

"Because I am trying to protect her," Mathilde said with uncharacteristic fierceness.

"So am I," Enjolras declared, his temper rising.

"Mathilde," Adrienne interjected slowly standing. Enjolras bolted up to steady her as she faced her oldest friend. Putting her hands on Mathilde's shoulders Adrienne said, "I love him and I will go with him."

"Adrienne," Mathilde sobbed, softly shaking her pseudo-daughter. "Please..."

With her own eyes full of tears, Adrienne shook her head, "I should have left with Julian in the very beginning. It's better this way."

Wiping Mathilde's tears away, Adrienne gave her beloved guardian a bone-crushing hug. "Please forgive me," she whispered in her ear.

Mathilde kissed Adrienne on both tear stained cheeks, "I can't get you to reconsider?"

"No," Adrienne said, looking back at Julian. "My heart goes with him."

"They will throw you both in jail for adultery; if you are caught. And your child…God knows what will happen to him or her….the poor babe will end up like those poor lost souls you see wandering the streets!" Mathilde hissed, trying to appeal to Adrienne's uncertainty.

"We won't be caught," Enjolras pledged, his arms encircling Adrienne, protectively. "I will take care of her."

His protective visage seemed to assuage Mathilde, momentarily, for she said, "I hope you are right for Adrienne's sake. And, I hope you realize what are getting yourself into."

"We do," Adrienne said in a weak voice. Her words and her tone battled dissonantly, unwilling to sacrifice their beliefs. Deep down, she realized Mathilde spoke the truth and the danger of Julian's proposition outweighed the hope. However, looking into his deep cobalt eyes, she could not walk away, not again. She could not deny him the chance to prove to her that they could live in peace, without having to watch over their shoulders.

Adrienne gave her beloved nanny one last kiss on the cheek before covertly exiting the gardens with Enjolras. The duo stuck to back streets and alleys, twisting and turning through the bowels of Paris. When they finally reached Enjolras' apartment, they collapsed on the bed with relief. It did not take long before they picked up where they had left off, seeking solace in each other's bodies. They could not get close enough as they clutched one another, kissing and caressing, succumbing to their primal need to unite. For hours, they danced the slow romantic tango of love, whispering impassioned prose into the other's ear as they found a painfully perfect rhythm. When they both could take no more, they clung to each other, shaking and panting.

"I love you so much," Enjolras rasped, kissing Adrienne upon her sweaty forehead.

"I love you too," Adrienne said, nuzzling Enjolras' neck, soaking in his unique and masculine scent.

Grasping her hand in his, Enjolras propped himself up on his elbow. He gazed down at her, his eyes indigo in the dampened light of the shuttered room. "I am so happy that we are finally together," he declared, his voice hoarse with emotion.

"Me too," Adrienne said, caressing his unshaven cheek. She sighed as his strong arms enveloped her, bringing her close to his rapidly beating heart.

The lovers lay soldered together, unwilling to move lest they break the enchantment. They allowed themselves to drift off to sleep for tomorrow they would embark on a remarkable journey.


	14. An Unraveling World

An Unraveling World

A maniacal banging woke the young man from his fitful slumber. He had tossed and turned for the greater part of four hours before the unwelcome interruption brought him to complete consciousness. Rubbing the bleariness from his eyes, Enjolras slipped gently from the bed; so as not to awaken Adrienne. Peeping through the tiny keyhole, his stomach dropped for on the other side of the portal stood Christian Lurondeux.

Soon, Christian's enraged voice echoed through the barred threshold.

"Open up!" he yelled. "I know you're in there!"

By now, Adrienne had stirred and upon hearing Christian's voice, bolted upright. She covered her mouth with her hands and look hysterically upon Enjolras.

Moving away from the door, Enjolras whispered to Adrienne, "Hurry, get dressed. I'll hide you in the closet.

Her heart pounding in her ears, Adrienne threw on her dress. Enjolras helped her with the buttons as Christian continued to scream like a madman outside.

"Don't make a sound," Enjolras whispered, cupping Adrienne's face in his hands.

With one last kiss, he stowed her away in the dark, quietly shutting the door.

Taking a deep breath, he made his way to the door. When he opened it, Christian glared up at him, his lips contorted in a snarl.

"Where is she?" he demanded, his hazel eyes onyx in the dim light.

"Who?" Enjolras asked, feigning a yawn. "I am the only one here."

"I know she's here!" Christian spat.

"Who is here?" Enjolras reiterated, playing dumb. "Are you playing some sort of game with me? You wake me up out of a sound sleep and…"

"Shut up," Christian cried. "I know that my wife is here!"

"Who's your wife? I…"

"ADRIENNE, YOU ASSHOLE! I KNOW THAT SHE CAME TO YOU TONIGHT!"

"Adrienne…Beaux? I haven't seen her in nearly six months…not since that enlightening dinner party."

Enjolras was surprised at how level his tone came out. Outwardly, he appeared collected and entirely in control; while inside his whole world had begun to unravel.

"Adrienne _Lurondeux_ and I know that you two have a romantic history. I am not stupid!"

"Really?" Enjolras said, raising an eyebrow. "You could have fooled me."

Ignoring the snide remark, Christian demanded, "Then let me inside. If I don't find her, I will apologize and take my leave."

"No," Enjolras said firmly. "My apartment is not suitable for guests. You are not welcome here."

With a strength Enjolras was not prepared for, Christian pushed him down, knocking the air out of his lungs. Falling breathlessly to the floor, Enjolras watched, helplessly, as Christian bee lined for the only hiding place in the room. He did not even have time to react as Christian flung the door open and pulled Adrienne out by the hair.

Adrienne screamed in fright as Christian threw her down upon the ground. She managed to catch herself, her hands scraping across the splintery wooden floor. Turning over, she scrambled backwards, trying to escape her husband's frenzied grasp. By now, Enjolras had recovered and he lunged at Christian, pulling him off of Adrienne's trembling form. With perfect aim, he landed a powerful blow to Christian's left cheek, causing him to stumble backwards. With a roar of pain, Christian kneed Enjolras in the groin, inciting him to double over with a groan. Taking the opportunity, Christian slammed his pistol down upon Enjolras' blonde head.

Eyes wide with horror, Adrienne watched as her lover fell to the floor in a heap.

"NO!" she screamed, tearing away from Christian's grasp and rushing to her beloved. She cradled his head in her hands, "Julian," she said, her tone hysterical. "Wake up!" She clutched him until her hands were ripped away.

"Get up!" Christian growled, pulling her to her feet. "You are coming home with me."

Adrienne's eyes blurred with tears as Christian dragged her from the apartment.

"Stand up," he hissed in her ear. "Do not embarrass me any further."

Adrienne struggled to stand but her knees kept buckling beneath her. This further infuriated her husband and he slapped her across the face.

Looking up at him with revulsion, she caught the glimpse of a figure in her peripheral vision. Turning, she saw Combeferre craning his head out from the door of his apartment. For a moment, they locked eyes, prompting Combeferre to enter the dark hallway.

"What's going on here?" he asked, his face full of concern

"It's none of your business," Christian spat, continuing to drag Adrienne down the hall.

"When I see a lady in distress, it becomes my business," Combeferre said coldly.

"This isn't a lady," Christian said, his voice full of open hostility.

"I think that she is and you should stop manhandling her," Combeferre retorted, his demeanor impassive.

"I think that you should go back inside your hovel," Christian roared, his tone menacing.

"Please monsieur," Adrienne said in a weak voice. "I am alright."

Combeferre looked down at her with such a compassionate and understanding gaze that it impelled her to cry even more. He gave her one last pitying glance before Christian had dragged her from sight.

Dread coursed through Combeferre as he raced down the narrow corridor to his ami's room. Pushing open the, already ajar, door; he gasped as he took in the sight of his crumpled and bleeding friend. Rushing to Enjolras' side, he gently shook him.

"Julian," he said his tone urgent. "Wake up!"

A faint moan met his ears as the injured man's eyelids fluttered open. Enjolras' hands drifted up to his pounding head and he clenched his eyes shut once more.

"Adrienne," he groaned. "Where is Adrienne?"

"She's gone, Julian," Combeferre said his tone sympathetic. "Her husband took her."

Enjolras forced himself up into a sitting position, "I have to go to her," he rasped.

"Julian, you are no position to go anywhere," Combeferre insisted, placing a hand on Enjolras' shoulder.

"I have to make sure that she is alright," Enjolras groaned before his eyes rolled back and he reentered the black abyss of unconsciousness.

A tap at the door interrupted Combeferre from his stomach churning apprehension.

"Monsieur?" an older woman's alto timbre said. "Is everything alright in here; I heard shouts?"

Turning, Combeferre saw the shadow of the landlady.

"No," Combeferre admitted, his voice shaking. "Please send for a doctor. My friend has been injured."


	15. The Vision

The Vision

Adrienne could feel her knees collide with every step as Christian dragged her up the winding staircase to their room. She had exhausted every last ounce of energy in an effort to resist him, but it had proven futile. Now, she hung limply, her arms hyperextended behind her. Numb from her internal agony, she did not even register the pain. Closing her eyes, she tried to imagine Julian and his handsome face, but the thought brought her jarringly back to reality.

Was he alright? Did the blow to his head kill him? She couldn't bear to entertain such excruciating thoughts. Julian _would_ recover and come for her. He _would_ protect their baby and…

She knew, deep down, that such hopes were unrealistic. Still, she could not completely abandon her faith in him.

Christian's primal growl tore through her trance and she felt her body being roughly pushed forward. Luckily, the bedroom floor had plush carpet, making her landing painless. Exhausted, Adrienne did not even try to stand back up. She, merely, buried her head into the soft textile and wept. She waited for Christian to strike once more, but surprisingly she heard the door slam shut instead. Sitting up, she turned to face the closed portal, just as Christian inserted a key into the lock. With a click, Adrienne was sealed away in her prison. Screaming, she ran to the door and began to hysterically bang upon it. She continued to slam her closed fists upon the wooden panel until they began to hurt. Sinking to the floor, she buried her face into her bloody and bruised hands.

How long did she sit there? Twenty minutes? Two hours? She could not have told you; so lost was she in her own torment. Eventually, she slumped back against the door and fell asleep. As soon as the black abyss of unconsciousness enveloped her; a nightmare began ensue.

_She was walking through an obliterated section of Paris. The pungent odor of gunpowder filled the air, clogging her lungs and making her eyes water. The rusty scent of blood wafted up from the cobblestone street and her stomach lurched when she identified the source. Bodies covered the narrow square, some uniformed, some dressed in plainclothes. Most of them looked young, no more than twenty-six. Their unseeing eyes gaped up at her and their lithe young bodies were contorted into unnatural positions. Fighting the urge to retch, she continued down the desolate rue. In the distance, she spotted a massive barrier of some sort. Upon closer examination, she found it to be constructed of debris and pieces of furniture. Walking through the breach, she gasped as she recognized the remains of the Café Musain. The door had been blown off its hinges by some great force, most likely a cannon. Stepping across the threshold, tears came to her eyes as she took in the sight of more mangled bodies. Something, deep within, compelled her to venture up the, still intact, staircase. With a careful air, she stepped over the bodies of two students and realized with a start that she recognized one of them. Glasses broken, brown hair covered in debris, Etienne Combeferre stared blankly up at the ceiling, a rifle lying upon his lap. Bending down, she placed a hand on his lifeless cheek before removing his spectacles. Forcing his eyelids closed, she recited a small prayer before continuing her ascent up the creaking stairs. Following a trail of blood, she found herself heading towards a small chamber. Two guardsmen lay dead against the doorframe, still defending their post. With a shiver, she forced her way past them and into the dimly lit room. When her eyes adjusted, she felt her knees give away. A scream tore from her mouth and she crawled towards the source of her distress. Tears streamed down her face and her brain refused to accept what her eyes were seeing. She tried to tell herself that he was just sleeping. His blonde lashed eyes peacefully closed against his pale cheeks perpetuated the allusion. Had it not been for the eight bullet wounds turning his white shirt crimson; she would have believed it. When she reached the rigid body of her Julian; she shook him desperately. Her lips connected with his as if to force air into his lungs. Falling against his still heart, she found herself screaming again. _

"Madame Adrienne," a soft soprano voice soothed. "It's alright."

Eyes snapping open, Adrienne looked up into Claudette's kind face. The younger woman had her hands upon Adrienne's flailing arms and looked thoroughly concerned.

"Where am I?" Adrienne asked trying to control her breathing.

She prayed that the experiences of the past two days, excluding the moments spent with Julian, had all been a part of her horrific dream.

"I found you on the floor and Angelique and I…we helped you into bed," Claudette explained.

Just then, Adrienne realized that soft cushions now supported her worn frame and a clean shift had replaced her grimy gown. The sheets that covered her perspiring body had been twisted and contorted about her as she writhed during her nightmare. Shivers wracked her body as she tried to come down from the adrenaline high. Suddenly, Claudette's words sunk in and she momentarily forgot about her prophetic vision.

"Where's Mathilde?" Adrienne asked.

Claudette looked uneasy. Wringing her hands, she said, "Mathilde is gone."

Adrienne's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "What do you mean, gone?"

"She left this afternoon…before the master brought you back."

Epiphany flashed through Adrienne's psyche. The only reason Mathilde would have abandoned her was if she had been the one to tell Christian. Why had she not thought of that? Of course Mathilde would have been the culprit. No one else, but Mathilde, knew that Adrienne had been intercepted by Enjolras in the gardens. How could her beloved mother figure have betrayed her in such a callous way? She had bemoaned the loss of her Edward and now denied Adrienne the love of her Julian. Nausea overcame her at the recognition of Mathilde's perfidy, but instead of becoming ill; she demanded more answers.

Taking a deep cleansing breath, she asked, "What did Mathilde say?"

Claudette wore the expression of one who had anticipated such an inquiry. Reaching into her apron pocket, she extracted a folded slip of paper. Adrienne immediately recognized the floral print as belonging to her stationary set. Accepting the note, she carefully unfolded it with shaking hands.

Dearest Adrienne,

By now, I am sure you know that it was I who told Christian about you and Julian. I am so sorry to have deceived you, but I had your best interests at heart. That young man will cause you nothing but heartbreak. His heart lies within France and his life goes to the revolution. If you had left with him, he would have come to resent you and the baby. I want you to realize that I did this to protect you. You mean the world to me and I know what it's like to love a man who puts his Patria first. Please forgive me and try to move on without that boy.

Love, Mathilde

Adrienne let out a scream of agonized frustration before crumpling the note within her angry fists. She then, ripped the parchment into tiny shreds, tossing the fragments upon the floor.

Unsure of what to do, Claudette bent over to clean the mess, but Adrienne halted her.

"Don't," she croaked. "Just leave it."

Nodding obediently, Claudette backed away from the scraps and waited patiently for Adrienne's next order.

"Can you please just leave me alone for a little while?" Adrienne asked, trying to maintain her composure.

"Of course, Madame Adrienne," Claudette said her eyes full of compassion.

The empathy of the young girl paralleled with that displayed by Combeferre earlier. The connection brought forward another pang of grief and once the door had closed behind Claudette, Adrienne gave into her sorrow.

Not only had she lost her beloved Julian, the father of her unborn child, but she had lost a mother too.

_No, I haven't lost Julian. He will be fine and come back for me. We will leave France and find a better life in America. _

But what if Mathilde spoke the truth? What if she had been so blinded by love that she had failed to see Julian's flaws? Would he come to resent her? Would he abandon her in the end?

A new level of pain descended upon Adrienne as she contemplated her future. She knew that life with Christian would have to suffice for her new reality. Julian Enjolras belonged to France and she belonged to Christian Lurondeux. As much as the truth killed her…it would just have to be.

.


	16. Unrequited

Unrequited

After a few hours of solitude, Adrienne began to wonder where Christian had gone. Had he gone back for Julian? Had he gone to tell her father or worse, his father? Her answer came a short twenty minutes later; when he barreled through the door slightly intoxicated and even more irate than before. Shutting her eyes, she tried to feign sleep, but that did not deter him. Reeking of cigar smoke and brandy, he leaned down, his face inches from hers and said, "Get up, I want answers!"

Acting groggy as if she had just awoken, Adrienne mumbled, "Can't we talk later?"

"No," Christian snarled, attempting to pull her out of the bed.

Realizing that only a light nightdress concealed her distended abdomen; Adrienne remained stubbornly beneath the covers.

"I'll be down in a minute," she said with an air of defiance. "Just let me get dressed."

Christian thought it over for a minute, before saying, "Fine, but make it quick."

Adrienne wanted to say, "Yes, your highness," but she figured that it would best serve her interests to stay neutral.

Racing to dress, her heart threatened to burst forth from her chest. She chose to wear one of her thickest gowns, hoping the bulky material would detract from her growing womb. Fluffing the material, she assessed herself in the mirror and decided that the fabric perfectly concealed the evidence of her and Julian's love.

When Adrienne reached the dining room; she helped herself to some croissants and tea while Christian pretended to read his daily paper. Her throat felt like it had closed off and it was a trial to swallow the dry bread, but she knew that she required sustenance. Forcing the doughy bites down with a sip of tea, she dared to sneak a glance at her husband. With a start, she realized that his eyes were already locked upon her.

"So," he said, setting down the gazette, "How long has this been going on?"

_He wastes no time…_

Inhaling deeply, Adrienne replied, "Last night was the first time I have seen Julian since our marriage."

Chuckling sardonically, Christian said, "Come now, do you honestly expect me to believe that?"

"Believe what you want," Adrienne said coldly. "But, I am telling you the truth."

Narrowing his eyes, Christian pressed further, "You two seemed pretty familiar with each other."

"That's because we are in love," Adrienne confessed matter-of-factly.

She did not expect the shell-shocked expression that crossed Christian's face at her revelation. He looked…hurt?

However, the melancholy look only lasted a few moments before morphing, once again, into a scowl.

"Then why didn't you marry _him_?" he asked, disdain in his tone.

"I wanted to, but your father had different plans," Adrienne declared. She placed particular emphasis on the word "father," making it sound more like an expletive than a word designating paternity.

Sinking back into his chair, Christian was rendered speechless, stupefied by his wife's confession.

After a lengthy silence, he asked, "What do you mean by 'my father had different plans.'?"

Clenching her hands in an effort to restrain herself from strangling him or smashing her plate over his head, Adrienne curtly said, "Your father coerced mine into submitting to a matrimonial agreement. He told him that if he did convince me to marry you; he would tell all of the Parisian elite that I had been dallying with a schoolboy."

Christian's eyes widened in horror, "What are you saying?"

"Are you really so dense?" Adrienne cried, unable to contain her rage any longer. "You got your wish in the end! Are you not the one who threatened me in the first place? Told me that you would tell my father if I didn't accept your proposal to court me? I told you that day that I did not have feelings for you, nor would I ever!"

Abruptly standing and upending his chair, Christian retaliated with, "Do you think that I asked my father to force this on you?"

"OF COURSE I DO!" Adrienne shrieked, standing herself. She looked up into Christian's amber eyes, her own full of loathing, "I know that you had your hands all over this!"

"I had no idea that my father blackmailed you. If I had known…"

"You would not have stopped him," Adrienne responded with disgust.

Shaking his head, Christian said, "I honestly thought that...you might have some feelings for me."

Laughing derisively, Adrienne said, "Oh really? You honestly believed that I had feelings for you? How clear did I have to make it? What, did you father lie and tell you that I had some unrequited affection for you?"

Paling, Christian rebutted with, "I thought maybe…sometimes women can be so confusing…"

"There was no confusion," Adrienne hissed. "I stated my feelings plainly from the very beginning. Christian, I hate you."

Christian blanched at her corrosive comment.

"Your volatile disposition towards me last night further justified my beliefs," Adrienne added.

Anger flared up within Christian and he hotly said, "I was told that my wife was having an affair! Can you blame me for being a little put out?"

Forest eyes darkening, Adrienne said, "In my heart, Julian is my true husband. You were the one that I was forced to have an affair with!"

Her truthful comment struck a chord within Christian. What had remained of his fragile self-control shattered and he backhanded her with such force that she fell to the floor.

"I will not endure this any longer," he snarled. "I am going to end this!"

Storming from the room, he barreled into Claudette, who was carrying a platter of coffee and sugar.

"Master," Claudette shrieked, as the platter escaped from her jolted hands. A scream of frustration tore through Christian as the pitcher of coffee spewed forth splattering piping hot liquid upon his immaculate dress uniform.

"You fool!" he yelled. "Clean this up immediately!"

By now, Adrienne had managed to scramble to her feet. She watched with trepidation as her husband towered over the trembling servant, his hand poised to strike.

"Leave her alone!" she demanded, finding her voice. She steeled herself against Christian's vindictive glare as she wiped away the blood that had begun to ooze from her busted lip.

"You shut your whore mouth!" Christian spat.

Bristling at the profane insult, Adrienne pressed on, "Christian, you need to calm down. You are acting like a madman."

"I said to shut up!"

Christian's lapse in attention, gave Claudette the opportunity to scurry away. She glanced back at Adrienne anxiously as she cowered in the shadow of a large antique vase. Apprehension consumed her as she watched her master continue upon his blind rampage.

With a growl of rage, Christian turned on his heel and barreled up the stairs. Hot on his tail, Adrienne cried out to him. When he didn't respond, she frantically questioned, "What are you going to do!?"

Again ignoring her, Christian burst through the door of his room and began ransacking his bureau. Adrienne watched in muted horror as he pulled out an ivory handled pistol and placed it inside of his coat pocket.

Pushing past her, he made to leave, but Adrienne grabbed hold of his arms. "Where are you going?" she wildly inquired, though she already anticipated the answer.

"To finish what I started," Christian growled, prying her hands off of him. "I am going to get rid of my competition."

"NO!" Adrienne screamed, grasping his shirt. "Don't hurt him, please!"

Tears streamed down her face as she begged him to spare the love of her life.

"It's too late," Christian said his face inches from hers. Grabbing her neck, he dug his fingers into the soft flesh before adding, "I am doing this to protect your honor, just as your father tried to do by forcing you to marry me. I am willing to overlook your perfidy as long as you submit to me and resume your duties as a loving and obedient wife."

"I will do whatever you want," Adrienne said. "Just please do not harm Julian."

"You are not in the position to negotiate," Christian hissed, roughly releasing her.

"Please Christian," Adrienne begged, running after him. "Don't do this! It doesn't have to be this way!"

What was going on in the young guardsman's mind? Most would consider him nefarious and unable to grasp the concept of complex human emotions such as love. However, deep down, Christian did care for Adrienne. Rather, he lusted after her and cared as much as he was able. For years, his father had played him like a fool, manipulating him like a puppet. His entire life, he had experienced an intense desire to please the venerable older Lurondeux. This did not pardon him from his selfish and sadistic actions. However, it does shed light on the reasons behind them. Naively, Christian had believed that Adrienne reciprocated, at least at some level, some affection for him. For why would his father lie about that? Why would he have told him that Adrienne had an unrequited fondness for him, when, if fact, she had given her heart to another man? All of these thoughts tangled in his mind creating a vertiginous spiral of madness.

"It _does_ have to be this way!" he cried, whirling towards her. "It is the _only_ way we can go on as husband and wife."

"No," Adrienne croaked, tears streaming down her face. "You have to spare him. He's an innocent man!"

His hazel eyes flashing fire, Christian wanted desperately to strike Adrienne again, but he managed to quell the urge. Instead, he turned a deaf ear to her hysterical pleas and began his descent down the stairs. What happened next occurred so rapidly; that there was no possible intervention. Adrienne took off down the steep staircase behind him, desperate to stop his departure. Her long gown, so useful in hiding her pregnancy, failed her at this moment. Tangling in the heel of her boots, like a Punjab lasso, it sent her plummeting forward. She had no time to react as her body rolled relentlessly down the winding staircase. Her bones screamed as they collided with the sharp edges of the steps. The only thing she could do was protectively hold her swollen belly until the ordeal ended. Bleeding and dazed, she could hear Christian shouting her name. Soon, his hands were gently turning her over. "Oh my God," he gasped as he looked down upon her with genuine concern.

Suddenly, Adrienne's face contorted into a mask of agony and she let out a bloodcurdling scream. Clutching her abdomen, she felt as if she were being torn open from the inside. When a warm viscous liquid began to seep into the fabric of her pantalets, her stomach sank. This could not be happening. What would she tell Julian? Did it matter though? She would never see him again. All of these thoughts whirred through her mind like a colony of angry hornets until she lost consciousness.

Send for a carriage," Christian screamed to Claudette, who had just materialized from the shadows. "We need to get Madame Lurondeux to the hospital!"


	17. Revelations

Revelations

The grandfather clock chimed thirteen times, revealing the hour to be one 'o'clock in the afternoon. Bright sunlight streamed through the open window which contrasted starkly with the sparse and conservatively decorated waiting room. Pacing, Christian puffed on his pipe, ignoring the angry protests of Sister Agatha, the nun in charge of hospital admissions.

"Please Monsieur," she admonished. "We have poor souls dying of consumption in this hospital! They do not need to breathe in that poison!"

"I don't see anyone with such a condition in my presence; so leave me be."

There was, in fact, a young boy with a hacking cough shivering in the arms of his worried mother, but Christian did not seem to regard him. When the irate sister attempted to voice such, Christian gave her such a withering look that she rolled her eyes and returned to her paperwork.

Another hour passed and Christian had exhausted his supply of tobacco, much to the good sister's delight. Thus, he sat in one of the stiff-backed chairs, clicking his heels rhythmically upon the tile floor. His anxiety had reached the precipice, when Sister Agatha finally summoned him.

She nodded to a nurse, who, in turn, escorted him to a diminutive office. Smiling thinly, she said, "Dr. Laramie will be right with you."

By "right with you," she had clearly meant a half-hour for Christian had begun to grow groggy by the time the haggard physician entered the room.

Straightening up, he shook the doctor's hand. For several moments, Dr. Laramie said nothing. He just gazed across at Christian his brows furrowed.

Christian was about to begin the conversation, when Dr. Laramie finally found his voice.

"We managed to stop the bleeding," he said.

"Good," Christian replied, clearly relieved. "When can I see her?"

The doctor's brow furrowed even more, his face taking on a troubled expression.

"You can see her soon, but there is something that needs to be addressed first."

His heart faltering at the doctor's serious tone, Christian asked, "What is it?"

"Your wife has lost a significant amount of blood, Monsieur Lurondeux. Most women who miscarry develop…"

"What did you just say?" Christian asked, his eyes widening.

"I am sorry, but your wife has lost the baby," the doctor said, his face full of genuine sympathy.

Paling, Christian gripped the arms of the chair until his knuckles turned white. "My wife was pregnant?" he reiterated, certain the physician had made some egregious error.

"About four months," the doctor confirmed, surprised by Christian's apparent ignorance.

"I have to go," Christian said his voice barely a whisper. He looked about him wildly like a trapped animal, his mind unwilling to process the unfathomable truth.

Making his way to the door, he heard the doctor say, "Monsieur, don't you want to see your wife? She may not make it."

Steeling himself, Christian turned and coldly said, "What a pity."

The doctor could only gape after him as he took his leave.

As Christian left the hospital, a rage consumed him so violently that it threatened to rip him apart. His first instinct was to race back to Adrienne's lover's apartment and blow the degenerate's brains out. How dare that insolent schoolboy impregnate his wife! The audacity of such impetuousness! He knew without a doubt, that he could not be the father. A horse-back riding accident during his National Guard training had rendered him impotent. However, not a soul knew of his infertility, not even his father. But now, the bastard child was lost and so was Adrienne. How did he feel about that? She had betrayed him, that much was true. But, could she not have become pregnant before their wedding? Did he really want to draw attention to his emasculating malady by slaying his wife's lover?

_No, I want him to suffer like I have suffered! I want him to know the pain of losing his child and lover._

How did Christian really feel about Adrienne's expiring life? It must have pained him significantly for he immediately sought refuge in the closest tavern. There, he downed, near, lethal amounts of absinthe and brandy. He wanted to forget the humiliation and anger he had experienced, but most of all…he wanted to forget his wife.

Etienne Combeferre watched with intense anticipation as his best friend's eyelids fluttered open. The doctor had already come and gone, unconcerned with Enjolras', as he put it, "mild" concussion. He had stated in a bored monotone voice that a headache would serve as the only lasting effect from the attack. He had then held out a wrinkly hand for his five franc payment. Begrudgingly, Combeferre had handed over the currency, not at all reassured by the ancient physician's assessment.

Now, Combeferre would see if the assault had truly caused his ami any lasting harm. He watched as Enjolras slowly raised a hand to massage his temple, his eyes squinted in pain.

"What happened?" he asked groggily, trying to adjust to the late afternoon sun that streamed through the open window.

"You were attacked," Combeferre said gently. He did not want to have to explain the situation any further.

He didn't have to.

"I have to go to Adrienne," Enjolras declared, sitting up.

"Julian, no," Combeferre said, attempting to push his friend back down. "You are in no condition…"

"– I have to go to her," Enjolras exclaimed, his eyes wild. "God only knows what that heathen did to her."

The blurred events from the day before had quickly resurfaced and he knew that Adrienne was in danger.

Getting up from the bed, he ignored Combeferre's good-intentioned protests. The room spun vertiginously before him, but he persevered through the nauseating sensation. Striding to the bureau where he kept all of his important effects, he rummaged around until he found a medium size mahogany box.

"Enjolras," Combeferre said warningly after his friend had opened the case, revealing its malevolent contents.

"Don't worry, Etienne," Enjolras mollified, removing a large onyx handgun and pouch of bullets.

"Julian, why don't you just rest? Tomorrow, we will both go to the Lurondeux's. It won't be as dangerous."

Pulling on a ruby red coat, Enjolras hid his weapon within an inner pocket. He fixed Combeferre with a serious gaze, "I have to do this; you know I do."

"Don't do anything rash. You'll get yourself thrown in jail or worse…killed."

"I am not afraid of him," Enjolras affirmed, his teeth gritted against the pounding in his head. "I have to protect Adrienne and the…"

Combeferre's face fell; he knew instantly what Enjolras had begun to say.

Eyes wide, he lamented, "Oh, Julian, no…"

"I just found out yesterday," Enjolras admitted. "That's why we were going to leave."

"Does Lurondeux know?"

Shaking his head, Enjolras said, "No."

Combeferre's mind flashed back to the day before; when Adrienne's husband had dragged her around like a sack of potatoes. A woman in her condition could have easily miscarried given the stressful circumstances.

"What are you planning to do? You cannot just barge into the man's house and take his wife like some sort of caveman! I know that you love her and…"

"I will not allow that animal to raise my baby," Enjolras said, his tone so full of malice that Combeferre shivered involuntarily.

"Just be careful," he replied, saying a silent prayer as his friend walked out of the door.


	18. A Weeping Heart

A Weeping Heart

Paris never ceased its frenetic pace. Beggars moaned for sous on every corner, grimy gamins wove in and out of stores, nicking miscellaneous wares, drunkards stumbled over the cobblestones, students collaborated treacherously in the shadows, and carriages rattled past every few minutes. Enjolras tuned out the cacophony as he navigated his way through the melee. Usually, he would stop and banter with his fellow students or spare a few francs to the beggars, but not today. He needed to get to the Lurondeux's and he did not wish to hire a coachman. Thus, he found himself entering the livery; where the odor of hay and manure mingled with the sweat of horses. The owner, a middle-aged blacksmith, was hard at work on the billows, urging the dying embers to rekindle their spark.

When he caught sight of Enjolras out of the corner of his eye, he said, "Aye sir, what can I help you with today?"

"I am in need of a horse, the fastest that you have."

Wiping soot upon his, already, grimy apron, the smithy replied, "Do you have the money?"

"Of course," Enjolras replied, rebuffed by the smithy's boldness and inability to call him "monsieur."

Removing twenty francs from his coat, he slapped them down upon the older man's blackened hand.

"Like I said," he reiterated. "I want the fastest horse that you have."

Seemingly satisfied with his monetary gain, the blacksmith, whose name turned out to be Jacques Fernier, led Enjolras to the back of the stables; where a black thoroughbred stood, twenty hands high.

"This here is Night," Jacques said, nodding in the majestic horse's direction.

"He'll do," Enjolras said, impatient to begin his journey.

"You runnin' from trouble boy?" Jacques inquired; appraising his customer's disheveled appearance.

"No, monsieur," Enjolras said with a sigh of exasperation. "I would just like to be going."

Spitting a missile of tobacco onto the earthen floor, Jacques saddled the imposing horse and handed the reins over to an eager Enjolras.

Hurling himself upon the magnificent creature's broad back, Enjolras thanked Jacques. Clicking his stirruped heels against Night's sides; he set off into the Parisian sunset.

He knew exactly where the Lurondeux estate was located. The grandest and most luxurious of the aristocratic mansions, chez Lurondeux sprawled across forty-five acres of countryside.

When he arrived, nearly a quarter of an hour later; he raced up the front steps and pounded his fist upon the oaken double doors. After a few moments of relentless knocking, a weary maidservant opened the portal.

"How can I help you Monsieur?" she asked.

"I am here to see Madame Lurondeux," Enjolras replied.

_It is so hard to call her by that name._

"Madame Lurondeux is not here," the young maid said. "I am afraid she was taken to the hospital."

"What?" Enjolras exclaimed, his face paling. "Is she alright? What happened?"

"She fell," the woman said, though Enjolras could tell that she was holding back some details.

"She fell…oh my God," Enjolras gasped his mind running haywire with the revelation.

"Excuse me, Monsieur," the woman said, seemingly chagrined by her boldness. "But, who are you?"

Looking up at her, though his azure eyes were unfocused and distant, Enjolras said, "Julian…Julian Enjolras."

Covering her mouth with both hands, the young woman said, "Mon Dieu…you're the…"

Eyes widening, Enjolras' heart began to pound even faster. "How do you know?"

"Madame entrusted me with her secret; she knew I would never say anything."

Tearing away from the girl's probing gaze, Enjolras said, "Does _he _know?"

Picking up on his subtle inquiry, the woman replied, "I don't think so…"

Her voice trailed off and Enjolras felt his, already, unsettled stomach drop.

"Please, just tell me where she was taken."

The young woman trembled beneath the intensity of his cerulean gaze. He truly was a sight.

"St. Benedict's"

"Thank you!" Enjolras breathlessly exclaimed as he raced back to his horse.

Within seconds, the stallion's hooves had disrupted the gravel of the drive, leaving settling dust in their wake. Claudette watched until the young man had disappeared from sight. She did not hear the footsteps approach from behind her; so she flinched slightly as a gentle hand rested upon her shoulder. Looking up, she registered the golden brown eyes of Angelique.

"Was that the father?" Angelique asked.

"Yes," Claudette replied, still shaken.

The two sisters were silent for several minutes before Claudette said, "I have a bad feeling that she won't make it."

Angelique enveloped the younger girl in a compassionate embrace, "She is strong. I am sure she will be fine. And, if she's not, at least he will be with her."

The sun had almost completely disappeared behind the horizon when Enjolras finally made it to the hospital. Bursting through the entrance; he was met with the stern gaze of an elderly nun. Perspiring and panting, Enjolras asked, "I need to see Adrienne Lurondeux."

Raising an eyebrow, the nun inquired, "Are you of any relation to the Baron's daughter-in-law?"

_Did the Baron's eminence transcend the barrier of the cloister?_

"I am a close friend of the family's," Enjolras lied.

_Forgive me Lord…I don't make a habit out of lying to nuns, but I have to see her…_

"Very well," the nun replied, though she seemed unconvinced. "Follow me"

The nun, Sister Agnes, led Enjolras down a narrow candlelit passageway. With every step, he could feel his anxiety mount. What condition would he find his beloved in? Would she live? Would they be able to run away together? Was their baby alright after the fall? All of these unanswered questions swam in his head as he crossed the threshold into the women's ward.

Moans and wails reverberated off of the walls; yet he could not see the owner's for each patient had the privileged anonymity of a drawn white curtain. Hacking coughs added to the cacophony as tubercular patients, wheezed their last breaths. Retching could also be heard and it sent gooseflesh erupting upon his, already, chilled skin.

_My poor Adrienne…she's pregnant and now exposed to this godforsaken pestilence…_

"Monsieur" Sister Agnes said, breaking into his reverie. "Madame Lurondeux's room is right here."

_Can one really call a curtained cubicle, a room?_

Nonetheless, Enjolras thanked her and with a deep breath, slid back the curtain. Slipping into the white shrouded space, he nearly caved to the floor. Adrienne lay upon the sweat drenched sheets, bruises covering her face and body and coagulated blood at the corner of her busted lip. Her long dark dresses were matted and stuck to her translucent and nearly lifeless face. Shivers wracked her body and her dark circled eyes had been closed upon his entry.

"Adrienne," Enjolras whispered softly, taking a knee by her side and smoothing back her tangled bangs.

Green eyes fluttering open, Adrienne gasped, "Julian"

She tried to get up, but Enjolras laid her back down.

"Shh," he said. "Don't try to move…just rest."

Grasping his hand, Adrienne said, "Oh Julian…"

But, she couldn't finish. A tremendous wave of agony consumed her and she began to weep inconsolably.

"Mon amour," Enjolras said, moving onto the bed and taking her into his arms. "It's alright; I am here now…you're safe."

He felt her shake her head in disagreement against his chest, her sobs increasing in volume.

Stroking her hair and placing tender kisses on her cheek, Enjolras asked, "What is it my love? Just tell me…if it will ease your burden."

After several minutes of silence, save for her uncontrollable crying, Adrienne managed to say…

"I lost our baby, Julian."


	19. Sleep

Sleep

He could not breathe. Perhaps, he had misheard her? Struck silent, he knew that he must offer some words of sympathy, a simple phrase to comfort her. But, he could not cognitively formulate a response to the tragedy. It pained him more than he could have ever expected. Still, he had to be strong for Adrienne. She needed him now, more than ever.

"I am so sorry love," he finally said. The simple words did not adequately convey the depth of his emotion, but it was all that he could muster.

"It's my fault," Adrienne lamented. "If I had not run after him…"

"It's not your fault," Enjolras affirmed, gently shaking her. "You have to believe that. Things like this happen every day…we cannot control them."

"Christian was going to go after you," Adrienne continued. "I, impulsively, admitted to our affair and he lost it. He wanted to kill you; so I ran after him and tripped down the stairs."

Fury coursed hotly through Enjolras' veins. He should have known Christian held the culpability for this horror.

Hugging her tighter, he said, "Adrienne, we have to get away. I will not allow him to hurt you again."

"Julian that will not be possible," Adrienne weakly replied.

Stroking his cheek, she was temporarily distracted by the evidence of his injuries. "Mon Dieu Julian," she said. "What did he do to you?"

Covering her hand with his own, Enjolras swiftly replied, "Don't worry about me, it will take more than a couple of punches to keep me out of the game."

Forcing a smile, he placed a kiss upon her quivering lips and added, "I am going to get you out of here…tonight."

"No Julian," Adrienne said, running her fingers through his silky blonde curls. "I won't be going anywhere."

Furrowing his brows, Enjolras inquired, "What are you talking about? I will do whatever I have to…"

Placing a finger on his lips, Adrienne interjected, "The doctor told me that I am dying Julian."

At first, her words did not register. Dying? Impossible! Adrienne could not die; he needed her.

"What?" he asked, praying he been mistaken.

"I've lost too much blood and I've developed an infection. Dr. Laramie says that I won't make it through the night."

"Well, he's wrong," Enjolras vehemently stated. "He isn't God…he can be wrong."

"Julian," Adrienne whispered, attempting to console him. "I can feel it in my bones. I have never felt this tired before…"

"…You just need to rest," Enjolras interposed, tears beginning to fall unashamedly down his cheeks.

"Please Julian," Adrienne said wiping his tears away, though they were quickly replaced. "Don't be upset. You have a long life ahead of you. You will find love again."

"No," Enjolras said, in such a heartbreaking rasp, that Adrienne felt her own eyes overflow once more.

"Just promise me that you will keep yourself safe."

Adrienne's dream resurfaced in her mind's eye and she added, "Don't sacrifice yourself for France…she would not do the same for you."

"Adrienne," Enjolras said, holding her firmly. He felt as if the tighter he held her, the less likely she could be taken from his arms. "I cannot let you go."

"You have to mon amour," she said her voice growing fainter.

"Burying his face in her hair, Enjolras tried to contain his unbridled emotions but it was for naught. Feeling his love grow weaker in his arms was more than he could handle.

"I love you so much Julian," Adrienne whispered, sinking deeper into his embrace.

Kissing her head, Enjolras replied, "I love you too sweetheart…more than anything."

Laying silent for a couple of moments, Adrienne added, "You never promised me…"

"What?" Enjolras inquired, with a shuddering breath.

"That you will not sacrifice yourself for France"

"I promise," Enjolras said, his bloodshot blue eyes locking with her forest ones.

_Can I keep that promise? If she dies, my mission will be all I have to live for."_

Relaxing at his assurance, Adrienne closed her eyes.

"Don't," Enjolras exclaimed, gently rousing her. "Don't go to sleep yet."

With all of her strength, Adrienne lifted herself up and pulled her lover in for one last kiss. The passionate gesture contained all of the ardor and love that had encompassed their short lived relationship. But its power zapped Adrienne of all her energy and she collapsed limply against Enjolras' chest. At first, he told himself that she had just fallen asleep, but her chest was not rising, nor falling. Panicking, he pressed his ear against her bosom, but the rhythmic beating of her heart had ceased. With an agonized cry, Enjolras leapt from the bed.

"Someone help!" he screamed. "She's not breathing!"

The clicking of footsteps could be heard as several nurses and the doctor rushed into the room.

Shooing him away from the bed, the doctor took out his stethoscope and listened to Adrienne's still heart. He repositioned the end of the scope to several spots on her chest, but to no avail.

"I am sorry, monsieur…but she is lost."

"NO!" Enjolras cried. "That is not good enough! She is too young to die! You have to do something!"

The doctor merely looked back at him with mute sympathy, though slight confusion marred his face. Why was this young man, obviously not her husband, so upset? Suddenly, realization dawned on him with abrupt clarity. The abject horror of the young woman's husband upon hearing of her miscarriage, the uncaring reverence for her impending death… All of this prompted him to seek affirmation.

"Are you the…father?"

Enjolras stared at him for a few moments, tears streaming down his face before replying, "I was."

Averting his gaze, Dr. Laramie said, "I am so sorry," before ushering his nurses from the cubicle.

In a daze, Enjolras meandered back to the bed; where his entire world had expired. Wrapping his arms around Adrienne's lifeless body, he sobbed into her hair, repeating the same phrases over and over: "Come back to me, I love you, Please wake up, and you can't be gone." Until finally, all he could muster the strength to chant was, simply, "no."

Hours passed and he continued to weep until no tears remained in his exhausted eyes. He would have stayed there forever, refusing food and drink, until he died with her, if Sister Agnes had not returned.

"Monsieur," she said her tone full of compassion. "I am afraid that you are going to have to let us take the body. Monsieur Lurondeux has been notified and he will be here soon."

Looking up at her with bleary eyes, Enjolras said, "He doesn't give a damn about her."

Normally, he would have been chagrined by his crude response to a woman of the cloth. However, under the current circumstances, he ignored her stiffness at the impropriety of his words.

Shaking off the blasphemy, Sister Agnes strode over to his side and placed a gentle hand upon his quaking shoulder.

"Young man," she said. "I can see that you loved her very much…but you are going to have to let her go."

Gritting his teeth, Enjolras willed himself to not break down again. Nodding in acquiescence, he gave his love one last kiss upon the forehead before following Sister Agnes from the room.


	20. Agony

Agony

The sound of the door bursting open tore Combeferre from his slumber. Whipping his head up, and leaping forth from the chair, he frantically willed his eyes to adjust to the pitch blackness of the room.

The intruder mumbled an expletive as his knee made contact with the bureau. Quickly recognizing the voice, Combeferre fumbled for a match and lit the lantern. The flickering light quickly illuminated the small room and Enjolras' face became visible.

"Julian, thank god you're…"

His words abruptly cut off when he took in the agonized expression upon his best friend's face. Enjolras had, clearly, been crying and by the looks of it, for some time. His eyes were swollen and bloodshot, his pale face splotchy and glistening.

Heart sinking, Combeferre asked, "What happened?"

Taking a deep shuddering breath, Enjolras replied, "Adrienne's gone."

"Mon Dieu," Combeferre exhaled. Of all the things he had expected to happen...Adrienne's death was not one of them.

Walking over to the liquor cabinet, Enjolras pulled out a bottle of brandy and poured himself a swig. Bringing the cool glass to his lips, he closed his eyes and tipped his head back, allowing the bitter liquid to slide down his throat. The physical burn, temporarily, alleviated the mental anguish that plagued him. Pouring another glass, he sensed Combeferre's concerned gaze boring into his back. Still, he couldn't face him. He could not bring himself to discuss what had just transpired. All he wanted to do was…forget. He should have known though; that his dear friend would not allow him to remain silent. A gentle hand upon his shoulder confirmed such suspicions.

Turning, he said, "She lost the baby…and she lost so much blood that she…"

He could not finish his statement. His voice wavered and he had to grit his teeth to keep from breaking down.

"Julian," Combeferre began his voice barely a whisper. "I am so sorry."

Enjolras could only nod in acceptance of the condolence before tossing back the remaining sip of his liqueur.

He began to pour another round with shaking hands, but Combeferre stopped him.

"Julian," he said softly. "Let's talk about this. Why don't you slow down?"

"Let me drink, Etienne," Enjolras said miserably. "I never get to…I'm always the responsible one."

"You don't want to lose control…not while you're in this state."

Laughing humorlessly, the bitterness cutting, Enjolras said, "What, are you worried that I am going to go out and kill that bastard Lurondeux?"

He could tell by Combeferre's chagrin; that he had correctly deduced the source of concern.

"I'm going to kill him," Enjolras affirmed staring at the bare wall before him. The malevolence in his glare made it appear as if Christian Lurondeux stood before him. Maybe he did…his phantom form antagonizing Enjolras, urging him to take his revenge. Setting down his empty glass, Enjolras pulled out the revolver that he had, nearly, forgotten in his hidden pocket. He looked it over as if he had never lain eyes on it before. With a haunted distant tone, he reiterated, "I will enact my revenge. Christian Lurondeux will pay for what he's done."

Involuntarily shivering at the ferocity of his friend's declaration, Combeferre rebutted with, "Enjolras, don't do anything rash."

"HE KILLED ADRIENNE, COMBEFERRE!" Enjolras cried. His hardened exterior breaking, he laid his forehead against the barrel of the gun and squeezed his eyes shut. From their creased corners leaked salty tears and Combeferre's heart broke. He watched as Enjolras' knees gave out and he sank to the floor. Shoulders quaking, he began to sob, allowing the gun to drop from his hand and onto the floor. Seizing the opportunity, Combeferre retrieved the weapon and hid it in his own coat. He did not want to be held accountable for Enjolras spending the rest of his life in prison. Thus, he would keep the gun hidden for safe-keeping until his ami was of sound mind.

"If I had been stronger," Enjolras lamented, grabbing Combeferre's attention. "I could have protected her…kept her from going back to that house…none of this would have happened."

Taking a knee beside him, Combeferre said, "You cannot blame yourself for this! You were incapacitated. There was no way; you could have intervened."

Shaking his golden head, Enjolras disagreed, "It was my duty to protect her…and I failed. I failed to protect her and our…baby."

His tone sounded so agonized on the word "baby" that Combeferre almost burst into tears. He had never seen his friend so distraught and it killed him. To witness such a strong stoic man, reduced to hysterics was truly a tragedy.

"I loved her so much, Etienne," Enjolras sobbed, his whole body shaking.

"I know," Combeferre whispered, enveloping his friend in an embrace. "I know…"

* * *

A chilling rain drizzled relentlessly, seeping into the bones of the unlucky traveler. On this day, it seemed fitting, that a funeral had just concluded. The grieving party, a lavish collection of extravagant individuals took turns offering their condolences to the widower, who stood stoically by the fresh grave, showing little emotion. Perhaps his apathy was due to the fact that another man had shed enough tears for the both of them. This man, stood behind the towering trunk of an elm, atop a hill that overlooked the cemetery. Tears streamed down his cheeks and he made no attempt to wipe them away. His presence at the funeral itself would have been quite impossible, but the anonymity of the tree's shadows provided him with the opportunity to pay his last respects to the woman the widower had already forgotten. He had hoped in the days since her death that the pain would numb, but it had only strengthened. Enjolras had never felt so weak nor had he ever been inclined to display his emotions so freely. In the past seven days, he had lost nearly ten pounds. His clothes hung loosely on his, already, thin frame. Dark circles ringed his eyes, an effect of chronic insomnia and his overall pallor had grayed with general malaise. The diagnosis? A broken heart.

In his grief, the young man did not even notice his friend, Combeferre approach.

"I thought I'd find you here," Combeferre said.

Startled, Enjolras turned his weary eyes upon his somberly clad ami, "I just had to see her one last time."

"I'm so sorry Julian," Combeferre whispered, giving Enjolras' shoulder a squeeze.

"Thank you Etienne," Enjolras croaked, as he turned to gaze back at the freshly dug earth that had swallowed up the love of his life.

The funeral party had begun to disband and Enjolras watched with contempt as Christian Lurondeux left with them. He did not even cast a backwards glance.

"He never loved her," Enjolras said, venom in his tone. "How can his life be justified? Adrienne and the baby were taken from this world, but he can continue to breathe, spreading his ignorance and…"

"Julian…"

Enjolras checked himself, noting that his tone had escalated in volume.

"I just don't see how it's fair."

"It's not," Combeferre agreed. "But who are we to decide such? We are mere mortals, Julian. Leave his fate to St. Peter on Judgment Day."

Chuckling bitterly, Enjolras said, "I don't think I can wait that long."

"Julian," Combeferre warned. "Don't start with this again."

Wiping the last few tears from his cheeks, Enjolras sniffed and said, "I know…I guess I will just throw myself into the cause."

By "cause" he meant, of course, the impending revolution. There had been increased dialogue on the subject within the past week at the Café Musain, though Combeferre did not think Enjolras had been listening. Clearly, he had been mistaken.

"Are you sure that you are ready for a project of this magnitude?"

"I am of sound mind if that is what you are asking," Enjolras affirmed, his tone coming out harsher than he had intended.

Combeferre merely nodded with a somber expression. He did not wish to argue with the grieving man. If it would ease Enjolras' burden to join in the crusade, then so be it. Forcing a smile, he patted his friend upon the back, before taking his leave.

After his friend had departed, Enjolras sighed and looked back at the fresh grave. Everyone from the funeral party had disbanded, giving him an opportunity to pay his last respects. Trudging down the steep, waterlogged hill, Enjolras pulled a single red rose from his jacket and placed it upon the soggy soil. Fresh tears came to his eyes as he read the engraved marble tombstone before him:

_Adrienne Lurondeux_

_Beloved wife and daughter_

_March 25, 1813 - July 18, 1830_

Placing his hand upon the smooth rock, Enjolras whispered, "I am so sorry, Adrienne. I am so sorry that I couldn't save you and our baby. I am sorry that we didn't get to spend the rest of our lives together…"

Wracking sobs consumed him as he delivered his heart wrenching monologue to Adrienne's spirit. He could almost feel her gentle hand upon his face, wiping away the saline trails. He could almost smell her lavender scent and feel her delicate body pressed against his back in an embrace.

"I know I promised you in the hospital…" Enjolras continued. "…that I would not sacrifice myself for France. I lied. It's the only way I can continue living. I know I can change this nation. Lovers like us will be able to marry, regardless of their station. I have to try…I have to make things right. Forgive me, mon amour. Forgive me…"

Breaking down, Enjolras laid his head against the tombstone, clinging to it as if it were Adrienne herself.


	21. Les Trois Glorieuses

Les Trois Glorieuses

The Café Musain had transformed into a teeming mélange of angry antimonarchists. Before, it had merely served as the home of idle sedition and treachery. But now, it held arms and dangerous men that were hungry for the king's blood. To accentuate the disorder and chaos of the café, one must describe the mood of 1830 Paris. After Napoleon's exile, the French people had witnessed the placement of another Bourbon monarch upon the throne. After their glorious 18th century revolution; they abhorred the idea of another fat king heading the government. By the summer, the discontent of the anti-monarchists had reached a precipice and they had subsequently begun to plot their counterattack. It did not help matters that the sweltering July heat offered no sign of respite. And the men's attitudes reflected such as their tempers rose like the mercury in the thermometer.

Among these ill-tempered men sat Combeferre and Enjolras. Both of whom were actively engaging in a particularly treasonous conversation when shouts from outside distracted them.

"A bas les aristocrates! A bas le roi!"

Several men, including Enjolras and Combeferre, went out to investigate the source of the subversive commentary.

They discovered a group of men carrying the tri-colored flag of the revolution, its vibrant red, white and blue stripes contrasting starkly with its bearers' drab attire. Gesticulating dramatically, the men shouted, "Liberté, égalité, fraternité," Noticing, the small collection of men before the café, one of the flag bearers said, "Join us brothers! Help us drag that Bourbon bastard to the guillotine like his forefathers!"

"Vive la France," Enjolras, Combeferre and the other café conspirators cried.

"Vive la France," the flag bearers responded in unison.

Their spokesperson smiled broadly and added, "Tonight will be the night."

And, he was right. The night was July 28, 1830 and by 7:00 PM, Paris had transformed into a bloody battleground. Barricades were erected throughout the city, constructed out of furniture, cobblestones, doors, and trees. Basically, anything that the revolutionaries could find was added to these monstrous heaps of obstruction. Atop these massive structures waved the red, white and blue flag of freedom, a symbol close to every freedom fighter's heart.

Shielded by a ten foot high mountain of pianos and carriages, Enjolras stood stoically. He looked fierce, his white shirt with its sleeves rolled up to the elbows, his red sash about his waist. Leather boots rode up his slim legs to the knee and his unruly blonde curls glistened with perspiration. In his clenched hands was an ebony rifle, which he was prepared to use at any moment. His mouth set in a grimace of reserve; he was eager for the fray to begin. He needed a distraction, regardless of the detrimental consequences it proposed. As if in an answer to his prayers, the sound of the advancing army piqued his interest. Climbing up the barricade, Enjolras peeked over the top and saw the pompous uniformed soldiers marching forth from the end of the rue. In the front sat a colonel atop a white Lipizzaner. His medals gleaming in the light of the street lanterns, he flashed his bayonet and ordered his men to hold their fire.

"In the name of the king," the colonel shouted. "Surrender!"

The leader of Enjolras' barricade, a young idealist named, Jean Richard, fired back with, "Never! We are the voice of the people and we demand change!"

Turning to his men, he said, "On the ready gentleman. Let's give them hell."

Readying his own weapon, Richard narrowed his eyes in concentration, aiming directly for the nameless colonel. "FIRE!" he shouted.

The lead bullet hit the decorated man directly in the chest and he fell from his horse. His head made contact with the cobblestones with a sickening crack and his men responded with cries of outrage.

"FIRE!" a handsome young lieutenant; presumably the fallen colonel's second- in- command, cried.

Members of the battalion scrambled to arrange their cannons. With shaking hands, they fired them off, simultaneously, obliterating huge sections of the rampart.

Fortunately, Enjolras' section had not been maimed and he continued to pop off rounds, hitting nearly every soldier for which he aimed.

He could hear the screams of his wounded comrades behind him, but he dared not take his eyes off of the battleground.

After an exhaustive fifteen minute skirmish, the army's resources had significantly diminished and they began to retreat.

Cheers of triumph emitted from several members of the counterrevolutionary party, but Richard and Enjolras were not among the jubilant. They both knew that the king's army would not be, so easily, deterred. They _would_ return and with stronger reinforcements.

Leaping down from his perch, Enjolras helped move the severely wounded into the haven of a nearby tavern. The owner, a matronly woman, allowed them to use her tables for the writhing bodies. Soon, blood covered the tavern's floor and the pungent odor of death permeated throughout the humid space. Just as Enjolras was about to go out and retrieve more injured patriots, a hand closed around his ankle. Looking down, he gasped as he recognized the grimy face of Combeferre. Sinking to his ami's side, he said, "Mon Dieu Etienne, what happened to you?"

"I was hit in the shoulder," Combeferre said, his teeth gritted in pain.

Appraising the wound, Enjolras said, "The bullet only grazed you, thank god. But, I am going to need to clean it."

Nodding, Combeferre clenched his fists as Enjolras acquired a bottle of bourbon from the tenant and poured a generous amount upon the oozing gouge. Ripping off his red sash, he fashioned a tourniquet and wrapped it tightly about the sanitized flesh.

"Thank you," Combeferre muttered weakly. "…and to think, that I'm the medical student."

Enjolras chuckled softly, patting his friend upon the uninjured arm. "What can I say? I'm a renaissance man."

"No," Combeferre said, smiling. "You're a revolutionary."

The duo was silent for a moment before Enjolras inquired, "Where were you? I couldn't find you before the battle began?"

"I had to find a weapon, but I forgot that I still had this."

He showed Enjolras the revolver that he had confiscated from him.

Raising an eyebrow, Enjolras took the weapon.

"If you wanted my gun; you could have just asked," he said good-naturedly.

"They're bringing in replacements!" shouted Richard from the doorway, prompting both amis to abandon their idle chatter.

"Be careful, Julian," Combeferre said, his tone suddenly serious.

"Don't worry, Etienne," Enjolras said with a grin as he followed Richard out to the half-manned barricade.

"We've lost nearly 20 men, thirty others are wounded," Richard said as if he could read Enjolras' mind.

"How many are left?"

"Twenty-five," Richard said his face grave.

Swallowing hard, Enjolras declared, "We won't go out without a fight."

Richard smiled thinly and clapped Enjolras on the back, "You're a good man, Enjolras. The world needs more like you. Men who are willing to fight for what is right."

Enjolras did not have time to respond for one of the sentries shouted, "They're readying the cannons!"

Bounding up the barricade, Enjolras reclaimed his rifle and aimed it at the heart of a trembling -soldier. The man before him could not have been much older than himself. At twenty years old, his life was about to end and Enjolras was going to be the one to take it.

In a white burst of gunpowder, the young soldier's world went black. A single tear rolled down his cheek, but his feelings of guilt were short-lived. A commotion to his right, catapulted him into action.

"Look out Enjolras!" one of the sentries shouted.

Whipping his head, Enjolras nearly stumbled backwards when he saw the face of the man advancing towards him.

He would have recognized that self-satisfied smirk anywhere.

Christian Lurondeux.


	22. Justice

Justice

A flash of gunpowder, momentarily, blinded Enjolras. Ducking, he felt a sea of splinters and shrapnel rain down upon his back. Maintaining his foothold upon the increasingly unstable parapet, he peeked over the top. Squinting through the haze of gunpowder, he could barely make out the figures of the depleted artillery force. The muzzle of his rifle resting against his shoulder, Enjolras aimed for one such man who was just about to ignite the cannon.

_If I can pick off all of their cannon operators; then victory will be ours._

Like a man possessed, he began to mercilessly annihilate any unfortunate soldier within his range. Along with Richard – who despite an egregious flesh wound continued to fight- he managed to prevent any more soldiers from breaching their rampart. In the midst of the skirmish, Enjolras had forgotten the advancing guardsman, turned king's henchman, Christian Lurondeux.

The king had abolished the National Guard a few months prior to the riots. Thus, the baron had obviously utilized his aristocratic influence to ensure his son's position in the king's army. Now, Enjolras finally had the serendipitous chance to face his nemesis. The desire for retribution surged through his veins like molten lava and his jaw clenched tightly with unbridled hatred. Suddenly, the outcome of the battle did not matter to him anymore and all he longed for was to send Christian Lurondeux to Hell.

The imminent danger posed by the relentless artillery armament had ceased as the entire division lay in a homogenous pool of blood beside their deadly munitions. Only a few foot soldiers remained, bound and determined to exert their masculine prowess over the wearied revolutionaries. Enjolras knew that Richard and the others could handle the overzealous warriors. Thus, he turned his attention, in full, to Christian. He did not utter a word as the older man climbed upon the barricade, the self-important smirk never leaving his face. By now, Enjolras had climbed down to the cobblestones below. He need not complicate his mission further by dangling precariously from the parapet.

He raised his rifle as Christian lithely leaped from the rampart and landed before him.

"We meet again," Christian said, raising his own weapon.

"I've been waiting for this," Enjolras growled, his eyes onyx in the dim light.

Chuckling sardonically, Christian said, "I'm sure you have. I am rather surprised that you did not come for me sooner. Perhaps our little foray at your apartment deterred you?"

"I am not afraid of you," Enjolras spat.

"Of course not," Christian replied facetiously. "You just want to blame me for poor little Adrienne's death."

Enjolras paled at Christian's flagrant disrespect for Adrienne.

"There is no one to blame but you. You might as well have pushed her down those stairs yourself!"

Suddenly, the self-righteous air evaporated from Christian's façade and he began to seethe with anger.

"I cared very deeply for Adrienne!" he hissed. "And, if you had not encouraged her to engage in an illicit affair; she may still be alive. It wasn't the fall that killed her…it was the miscarriage, the miscarriage of your bastard child!"

Enjolras had to consciously restrain himself from recoiling. Hatred, guilt and sadness consumed him as he rasped out, "I loved Adrienne…and she loved me."

With a guttural cry of rage, Christian hurled himself at Enjolras, pushing him to the ground. Both men's guns were knocked from their hands and they subsequently resorted to primal means of attack. Punching, clawing, kicking, they grabbled like two schoolboys in a recess brawl. With surprising swiftness, Christian managed to pin Enjolras beneath him as his hands constricted around the blonde's neck, cutting off his air supply. Adrenaline pumping through every fiber of his body, Enjolras managed to procure enough strength to knee Christian in the groin. With a groan of pain, Christian loosened his grip and Enjolras managed to get the upper hand, flipping Christian onto his back.

Crying out, Enjolras slammed Christian's fragile skull against the cobblestones. For a moment, Christian just looked up at him with a terrified expression before his eyelids fluttered closed.

With a primeval roar of fury, Enjolras continued to pummel his foe into the ground until his knuckles turned red with Christian's blood as well as his own. He did not stop the vicious assault until he felt a pair of strong hands pull him from the cooling corpse.

"Enjolras enough, he's dead!" Richard said.

Forced back into reality, Enjolras looked up at Richard, his eyes slightly unfocused.

"Are you alright?" Richard asked, with the expression of a man who doubted his comrade's sanity.

"Yes," Enjolras managed to gasp out.

He looked down at Christian's mangled face and a feeling of triumph surged through his soul.

"Enjolras," Richard said, noting his compatriot's haunted visage. "Come with me."

Despite bleeding copiously from his arm, Richard managed to lead Enjolras into the crowded tavern. Setting him into an unoccupied chair, he sat down across from him.

The moans of dying patriots filled the small pub, but Enjolras could not concentrate on their plight. His mind swam with thoughts of Adrienne and his unfulfilled promises to her.

"Enjolras," Richard said his green eyes full of compassion.

_Adrienne's eyes were the same exact color…weren't they? Mon Dieu, am I already forgetting her?_

"Enjolras," Richard repeated his tone more authoritative.

"Hmm," Enjolras murmured, looking up.

"What was that all about? I have never seen you lose control."

Enjolras had not known Richard for very long. They were merely school acquaintances, but the latter man did know a lot about Enjolras' character.

"It's a long story, Richard," Enjolras admitted.

Richard and Enjolras shared many characteristics. One of which was the ability to disengage from sensitive subject matters. Neither man liked to pry. Thus, Richard did not wish to press his fellow patriot any more.

"I understand," Richard replied, forcing a smile.

"Now, go and get that arm checked out," Enjolras said amiably, trying to feign a return to self-awareness and control.

With a nod, Richard went to seek out a medically cognizant survivor.

For a while, Enjolras just sat in stunned silence. He had done it. He had triumphed in his vendetta against Christian Lurondeux. But what was next? He still felt empty without Adrienne. What could he possibly do to fill the void of loneliness?


	23. An Oath of Secrecy

An Oath of Secrecy

_Two Years Later_

It was a humid Friday evening and the Café Musain was bustling with its usual activity. In an upstairs room, isolated from the general tavern population, sat a group of avid students. They were fervently discussing the disappointment of the 32' rebellion when their fearless leader entered. Their murmuring diminished significantly as Enjolras marched over to his right-hand man, Combeferre.

"What did you find out Julian?" Combeferre asked quietly, not wishing to excite the other amis.

"General Lamarque is very ill," Enjolras said gravely. "They fear that he will not make it through the night."

Combeferre's face fell. "What are you planning to do?"

"The people will rise regardless of tonight's outcome," Enjolras said matter-of-factly.

By now, Combeferre had grown used to his friend's callousness and, in response, he said, "We will follow you."

With a weak smile, Enjolras patted Combeferre's shoulder before pulling a map out of his coat pocket. Smoothing it out upon the table; he motioned for his friends Courfeyrac, Feuilly, and Joly to join him.

"I guess I'll just sit over here and drink," a debauched student named Grantaire said, picking up on the slight.

Ignoring him, Enjolras began to discuss his strategic plans.

"That's right, ignore Grantaire! He's too drunk to care! I might have some great ideas for all you know, Monsieur Enjolras!" Grantaire slurred.

Gritting his teeth, Enjolras fixed his cobalt eyes upon his inebriated ami.

"Grantaire," he growled. "Why don't you make yourself useful and take a nap?"

Scoffing, Grantaire took another swig of his brandy.

"Where is Marius?" Enjolras asked, ignoring Grantaire once more.

"I don't know?" Courfeyrac admitted. "He might still be chasing that little blonde's tail."

"Who?" Enjolras questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Our ami, Marius, has fallen in love," Courfeyrac said. "Though I wouldn't expect you to understand that Enjolras."

Though Courfeyrac merely intended to jovially jest with his stoic friend, the joke struck a chord within Enjolras. Furrowing his brow, Enjolras turned his thoughts back to the impending revolution and his many plans. He tried to tune out the hearty guffaws of the other men – Combeferre was the only one who did not find the joke amusing - but the effort proved futile.

"Can we all please concentrate?" Enjolras asked sternly.

Courfeyrac sniggered. "Oh come now Enjolras, why are you always so humorless?"

Combeferre was just about to come to his best friend's defense when a certain tardy ami entered the room.

"Marius, you're late," Enjolras said.

"I'm sorry Enjolras. I was…detained."

"That's not an excuse," Enjolras admonished. "If you want to be a part of this; then you need to get your priorities straight."

Chagrined, Marius Pontmercy blushed.

"It will not happen again, Enjolras," he said softly.

"It's time for us all to decide what our purpose is," Enjolras said, addressing the group.

His declaration was met with the murmurs of acquiescence from the other ABC members.

The Friends of the ABC, headed by Enjolras, but tempered by Combeferre, represented the heart of the people. They desired to resurrect France and set her people free from the shackles of poverty.

With Enjolras forcing them to focus, the ABC members, plunged into preparation for the upcoming coup. They were so engrossed in their task; that they did not notice a ruddy faced gamin enter the room.

"Listen up," the young boy's soprano timbre resounded.

Whipping his head towards the source of the sound, Enjolras felt his blood run cold. He knew what the child was about to say.

"General Lamarque is dead."

For several moments, the young man could not offer a response to the devastating announcement. Finally, after collecting himself, Enjolras said, "We will honor his death with our crusade. His funeral will be the day we attack."

At first, the other amis just stared dumbly at Enjolras. Surely, it was not proper to start a coup during a man's funeral?

Finally though, the students agreed with Enjolras. General Lamarque would have been proud.

Hyped up on adrenaline, Enjolras began to voice his ideas, gesticulating wildly. Gavroche, the little gamin who had delivered the message, also joined the conversation. He sat next to Courfeyrac, who looked down at the young boy as one would a younger sibling.

Marius sat in the far corner, near Joly and another late arriver – though Enjolras was too excited to yell at him - Jean Prouvaire. Marius' eyes gazed off distantly, his ears barely perceiving Enjolras' feverish oration.

"Marius," Prouvaire's voice said, interrupting his thoughts.

"What is it, Jehan?" Marius asked; trying to shake off the vivid memory of the blonde girl he had glimpsed at the market.

"Is that your lady friend? She keeps staring over here?"

Confused, Marius followed Jean's gaze before resting on his friend, Eponine Thernardier.

Abruptly rising from his seat, he ignored Enjolras' irritated gaze as he crossed the room to hear of 'Ponine's findings.

"Did you find her?" he asked anxiously.

"Yes," Eponine said, glancing nervously at Enjolras, who glowered at the duo.

"Take me to her," Marius said his tone urgent.

"What about him?" Eponine said, motioning towards Enjolras.

"He'll get over it. Let's go."

"Marius!" Enjolras cried as the younger man departed without a second glance.

"Don't fret Enjolras," Courfeyrac said. "After he sees that girl again…"

"I don't care about that! We have work to do."

"I know," Courfeyrac mumbled under his breath. "Patria first."

The amis deliberated for another hour before disbursing to their various apartments.

Only Enjolras and Combeferre lingered.

"Julian, are you alright?" Combeferre asked.

"I'm fine," Enjolras said gruffly. "Why?"

"You just seemed upset when Courfeyrac mentioned Marius' affections for that young woman."

"I just think that he needs to concentrate on what's important, that's all," Enjolras said, arranging his papers.

"Julian," Combeferre pressed. "It has been two years, why don't you…"

"Don't Etienne," Enjolras said, his blue eyes boring into Combeferre's.

"You need to…"

"You promised me that we would never talk about this again. My mistress is the Republic, that is what the other men believe and that is what they will continue to believe."

"What is so wrong with admitting that you lost someone you loved, Julian. Is it so terrible to admit that you have a heart underneath this stoic façade?"

"What heart? My heart ceased on July 18, 1830," Enjolras said, before turning on his heel and leaving Combeferre alone in the dark room.


	24. Epilogue

Epilogue

Enjolras' blood ran cold at the screams of panic emitting from his compatriots. Combeferre and Jehan pounded their fists upon the locked doors of the apartment next to the Café Musain, but to no avail. The people had turned their backs on them. Heart pounding, Enjolras tried to maintain his stoic façade, but his frightened expression betrayed him. Steeling himself, he led the men inside the partially obliterated Cafe. With the help of a volunteer named Jean Valjean, he, Combeferre, and Courfeyrac, managed to barricade the Musain's doors long enough to retreat upstairs. They knew that their minutes were numbered, but for the sake of self-preservation; they had to try. Enjolras gritted his teeth at the heartbreaking sound of Combeferre's soft whimpering. With his gun at the ready, he tensed at the sound of booted feet breaking past the haphazardly constructed barrier below.

Within moments, the sound of musket shots rattled the Café as soldiers fired from underneath their feet. Piercing the wooden floor, the bullets lodged themselves inside the hearts of Courfeyrac and Combeferre. Enjolras did not even have time to react as the door to his hiding place swung upon and a legion of guardsmen entered. The one closest to him resembled Christian Lurondeux and Enjolras felt the weight of the irony bear down upon him.

A rustling from the far corner, briefly distracted the soldiers as well as Enjolras. Turning, he smiled weakly as he took in the rumpled visage of his friend Grantaire. Tears streamed from Grantaire's eyes as he strode over to his friend and leader and took hold of his hand. The handshake was brief as the guardsmen readied their rifles.

"Any last words?" the Christian Lurondeux doppelganger asked.

"Shoot me," Enjolras said.

"Do you wish to have your eyes bandaged?"

"No."

His indifference seemed to shake the trembling guardsman. Enjolras continued to study him with his piercing blue eyes until he heard the sniper cock the rifle. The last image that he saw before the first of the eight bullets pierced his chest was his Adrienne.


	25. Author's Note

Author's Note

Thank you all for your amazing support of "The Revolutionary." I really appreciated all of the words of encouragement! I hope to write more Les Miserables fanfiction in the near future; so if anyone has any requests, please let me know!


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